-way-
Sincerely your phantom,
except for your hollowed bouquet, I can’t smell. Everything is touchy and with glad eyes. I must be verging on the edge of the rainbow bed. My sheets are all flying and your smell is too weary to cling on. It will be lost and with it your short story. The kissed time, we had little. A stench owl spooked and whoosh, I’m rolling, waving around the rainbow bed again, so close to the edge.
I’m the kid pilot now. I’ve got nothing to prove but that I can fly the rainbow, smell or stopping smell. The wind is rising beautiful sheets of air strung pearls. The rainbow waves back and I splash around with scentless orchid lights, shooting stardust into my velvet lined eye. I arrive inside out so that I don’t have to breathe in, just out.
Vacancy smell, I’ve beat your crawling way. Dear little stink quiche, I’ve got you there. The smell is still a phantom limb, you think its there. I know about rainbow beds and about losing touch without losing. Losing you when I don’t need to, that’s a phantom.
I’m boasting but now that I’ve got those tactile colors, I want your bouquet in my head again. Come sink me again in the rainbow and nothing will be touching my eyes. Your spiced drag could anchor me back and save me from losing the only thing I have
the faint pinch I have on our,
rainbow bed.
