I miss all your smells.
I ponder what they really are
cause they aren’t impossible saffron, or new lemons, or cinnamon sex mix.
It could just be soap. I miss your soap.
I can’t name it. Why do tears come?
I believe I am happy
know what to do with it.
I’ll let it all slide down my face
and drop onto my tongue.
I sing the words:
How will I ever go back from here?