Falling Skies | Day 06 | #NaPoWriMo

To my new lodging,

I have finally moved.

And oozing from

the mauve colored

walls is a dank odour

of drying paint.

Wafting invisibly, like

heat from asphalt on

blazing summer days.

Its rancid stench

nooses my breath,

and stirs my guts.

So unlike the easy air

homes always wear.

In my duffel

I have carried the

lavender air-freshener.

Its whiff, I remember,

you loved in our room -

hanging,

textured with light,

where we snuggled

close in a sheet,

and watched

your relaxed eyes

close, sedated by

the perfumed air.

I spray it here

all over again,

into the dark

toxic air.

Its aerosol mist

hangs for a whie,

and then, like a

pensive garden breeze

climbing to rooms,

renders my living

with familiar touches

of a cherished past.

Wait in the air, oh love!

Wait for me to sleep.

Before you part

through the window

into the violet

night sky, and

the constellation crumbles

upon my reverie,

into decayed petals

of a love dead

in my heart.

© Sobhan