Day 12 – A story revolving around an object in your room

There is this little something in my room that I had planned on taking down

You know, it’s just been a few months.

It deserves to stay on for longer, right?

The breeze moves it ever so much but the smell wafts towards the bed, taking me back to the day we bought it.

I should forget the parts of you that hurt, right?

But somehow I hold on to a part of you that won’t desert me.

I fall asleep and wake up to the warm smell of your memories

Does that small token of your presence still hurt me?

Of course it does. But I rejoice in that pain because it means I am still alive.

Oh, but being alive is painful because here I am and there you are

So far yet so close. Separated by one slash, one jump, one chair, one rope, one blade.

I will join you, mother, and I will join you soon

Till then, I will find home in the small packet of potpourri you left hanging by the dresser.

One thought on “Potpourri

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