why can't i write happy?

[lving_darkness]

Cinnamon

You died seven years ago today.

and I can still smell the cinnamon

that I dropped on your shirt

-it follows me, an omen,

a ghoul from my past, unable

to move on, unable to breathe

without smelling it.

Cinnamon.

I remember a time when I

couldn’t spell it;

when it was just another word,

another spice on the counter

-but

Comments

[turkeyish]

very ee cummings-esque, i like. :)

by the way, did you get my email with your beta'd fic?