The Smell of You Lingers With Me

By: Elliot Pope

 

I had finally dug up the remains 

of the garden you burnt into me,

when the scent of orange blossoms

found me once again.

 

One simple whiff planted 

seeds of memory in my brain,

until they bloomed into a garden of nostalgia.

 

I was just beginning to forget, but there

was your coy smile, there was your snorting

laughter, there were your deep blue eyes.

 

I had almost forgotten them, 

the exact shade of your eyes.

 

But now I remember that heavy blue,

the one I said was the sky at dusk.

 

I was so close to forgetting.

 

I wish I had forgotten.

 

That simple smell planted you back

into my head, and now I don’t know

how to dig you out without ripping up 

my own roots.

 

I wish I didn’t have to hurt myself to get rid of you,

to pull out those fruits of memory with only a shovel.

 

But I must dig down until

I get to the roots, and then pull l until 

I am free once again from your smile,

your laughter,

your eyes.

 

And after I am done 

reaping you from my mind, 

sprouts of memory remain.

 

They fester in the dying soil

and wait for a drop 

of orange blossom scent

to let them bloom again.

 

Kitchen Countertop by Anisa Lopez