All I can smell
Is pot and porridge
A beautiful
Pot pourri reminder
Of you.

I was selfish
Demanding
I told you but
Never showed you
I cared.

I was a bastard
Through laziness
And presumption
Bit I thought we were equal
And we both understood.

You said it was you and me
But then there was him
(That’s 3)
And all you’ve left
Is a bouquet of memories.

I’d forgotton how
Tears tasted
How my senses
Could
Flow.

Sucking back in
My love,
My life
Not believing
But breathing

And finally understanding
Our past.
Salt is
Definitely better
With porridge.

©Benjamin Gestaltung Cusden all rights reserved

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