And

It's a concentration of atoms, that in the air converse with one another.


And then those bits become molecules. 
They create my table.
My computer.
And in some ways, my ability to type and write and eat ramen at the last hour of the night.

 

And they make


That smokey woody herbal floating aroma that reminds me of the witchcraft shop down the street of where we used to live.


And it was in your bedroom. Where things were heady and you wore your briefs. And it was filled with Card Captor Sakura and pictures and an altar. 

 

And

 

And 

 

And I just think


I just think that it was such a good smell. It was so comforting when it was paired with acoustic guitar and loud yowling singing that made me consider my point of existence.


And my point of existence.


And my point of existence?

 

and

 

and

 

and I just know that it sucked. That you liked him, and I liked you, but I don't think you cared for me outside of release. I think I was fun at times.

 

I think that you were.

 

You were.

You were flippy. Flippy and capricious. And you thought I was fun at times, but I had stuff.

And I.

 

And I

 

 

and 

 

 

and 

 

 

 

Why do I smell smokey molecules.

When I'm drawing with ink. 

 

 

Ink is sort of smokey.

🌷 (5)

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