habits

I shouldn’t have tak­en the last shot
Which had the fa­mil­iar­i­ty of your lips
The essence sweet on my breath
Like the rec­ol­lec­tions it con­jured

I shouldn’t have tak­en the last drag of that cig­a­rette
En­gulf­ing me in a pu­trid cloud I’ve adapt­ed to
Which stained my sweater with a fra­grance
Taint­ed, yet trea­sured like our past

I should have thrown away the sweater
The one you leant me that smelled of your­self
This Fra­grance of long­ing
In­hibits de­sires too far-gone
These ad­dic­tions of which you suc­cumbed to con­coct this aro­ma
Now en­cir­cle me, as they’ve be­come habits of my own
 

As much as I try to re­mem­ber
For­get­ful­ness blan­kets over
And I can’t de­cide which is less harm­ful
 
 

—aman­da mau­r­er

Flom­mist Aman­da Mau­r­er likes art and bugs. She is also an in­tro­vert­ed artist with a lot to say. Heavy tea drinker. Finds joy in sim­ple as­pects of life. Copy­right © 2016 Aman­da Mau­r­er. Im­age com­pos­it­ed by mehal­lo feat. Aman­da Mau­r­er, Sven Svan­cara and Kristin Valen­tine Beuch­ler.

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