Cingulomania

Gasoline and diesel
Keep his hair. 
Its the smell to
Keep up the smile.

Sometimes 
Sitting 
On your couch 
Id 
Forget to adjust, 

Frozen.
I’d turn my knees 
Into             granite 
Into             steel 
Into             tin
Into             blue 
                   A
                   Lady
                   Bug in 
                   Rotted lilies.

But it was easier to sit 
In the river.
To let the 
Cologne wash your neck. 
I still smell it 
In my hair. 

Gasoline. 

Diesel.  

I still feel it 
Under my tongue.
Following my back.

I still 
Crave it.

Under the rocks 
Over the hedges
In between the 
Swinging 
Thighs.

I Truthfully,
In memory,
have lost 
It all:
Intentionally,
subconsciously,
promiscuously, I will forget 
The smell
Of corroded ironed fingers 
And 
Freshly washed hairs. 

I have lost it 
All:
Purposefully,
Heartbreakingly,
Repeatedly, 
Bouncing off 
Tummy tight 
Limbs.

I lost it all,
When
We kept a collection of 
Starbursts on our coffee table. 
On our coffee table, because 
It is easier to give away
A sugar cube and 
Sweetness. 

Gliding your skin between 
Wrapper shells.

I keep starbursts on my coffee table,
Because it is easier 
In the night 
To carry a sweetness under my tongue
While I wrap my arms around myself.