certain poems smell like rubber and lust,
bug spray and nostalgia.
certain poems smell like wrists and wishes,
while other poems smell like dicks and sounds.
certain times smell like certain poems,
with a splash of punk rock regret and NYC.
certain curtains smell like nights
left out in the cold with love and poems called Kendra Jean.
certain poems call for more,
with blood and leaving you all in mystery.
I am fine.
I am here.