every once
in a while
i close my door
and
smell
your mother's perfume...
it lingers there...
on
scalloped lace edges
with little
white
florentines
and i think about
sending
her a thank you card
or
at least
i wonder if it
would burn your edges...
(the hard ones)
you hold
against me
and
the clear shards
of romance
i wrap
tight
around my neck...
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