Climbing Up Out Of The Ashes

Making Our Perfume

I wanted us both to smell like a cinnamon bun fresh and steamy,
with the icing dripping down the sides of my shoulders,
though I never quite mixed the scents right, I tried all night, til the next day.

I made the cinnamon out of the love we made,
ancient spices from the scrapes of barks and twiggy unleaved branches,
heat for a micro second , reddish burnt velvet, turning to frosted powdered kisses of honey.

The icing was a clump of gluey disaster,
lumps in the clumps,
I even seen a happy face stamp of moldy limes,
more like a tasteless booger than the best part of a sweet treat.
yes gross,but you were thinking it anyways right?

you laughed at me,
I threw the pillows at you so you couldn't see,
my fragile grin reacting to yours,
I worked on this all night I whimpered.
You took my fingers and twined them to yours,
Saying "well, takes a lot longer than a night to make something that aromatically addictive"
I leaned back and started mixing the scents again from scratch,
enjoying how long it was taking.