Everything is Simple

Maps 2 (19 February 2012)

With every breath I take in,
I attempt to fall asleep
on this pillow you held in your arms
and rested your head upon
only moments ago.

My mouth is closed —
there is no one to talk to, now.
So, I breathe through my nose.
My olfactory sense mingles
with what little is left of your presence.

The faint smell of cigarettes and hair have become my favorite fragrance. I only hope that someday the scent will not be so faint and that, perhaps, it won’t be my head resting on this pillow.