Pretend I'm Your Montessori Blogger

...indulge me. Allow me to express myself, even if it irritates the hell out of you. Let me be your precocious, feral, little brat. Just for one day.


From right smack in the center of the universe,



Cindy

PS: Hey! Look what I can do:



Bottom Note

You’re sick
and I can taste it.
Your decay, the slow retreat,
the inevitable stopping—
it’s all pouring down my throat
in layers bitter and bile.

Eyes still flicker, lit and lambent
and your heart churns yet,
but already there is a funeral
thickening your breath.

Suffering exudes
this rare attar, a fragrant
seal—distinctly yours.
I follow the custom
of intimate horses,
inhaling your memory
as fast as I can.