your coffee mug,
old t-shirts,
notes in the books we read,
your god damn common name,
and the whiff of you i get,
when my head hits the pillow you used to lay on.
remnants of a heaven on earth have become my hell.
k.h.
YOU ARE READING
the shade of flowers/poetry by k.h.
Poetrythe edge of lucidity, rose tinted glasses and you, my dear.
