Cashmere Cologne

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Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

Not only did the world stop —
But time did too —
When he breathed on my ear.

His breath smelled healthy for his age,
And the fake bones in his
Mouth glimmered.

The way he acted — the way he laughed,
Or the way he cleared off his shirt of spilt red wine —
He spoke his spoke, him with his angelical

Language being produced that
Would carry anyone’s words
Through a devil’s pitchfork, and execute

Without mercy in a bloody manner.
He did not know—
No one knew —
No one knew — but I.

I lived for New York City and
Its riches at eighteen —
Out of the millions of ants,

I held the biggest crumb for me to share — to take.
His watch looked youthful with the way it ticked and clocked.
Time moved too slow; it was close to being frozen at three in the morning.

Tick tick clong!

This man, his hands touched me softly
And gently — caressing my endorphins —
Heart muscles moved in full throttle in oil, but it happened to be sweat — I,

Older, he, younger, took the youth from my functionality.
Sixty-five times weaker he was than me —
He wanted my time — my pace.

His power was generosity — the gifts
Covered in dirty green papers, and his skin filled with void.
I chose to be in love with him —

In lies the death’s door — across the
Threshold that he was about
To enter.

Creak and slam!
Never to be seen again.
What was left was his cashmere

Cologne scripted around the room.
The scent was strong — gripped all over
Me with every particle —

A timeless kiss.

Montenegrin American poet 🇲🇪🇺🇸

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