15th

2019-2025

Seven years ago, on a summer day in May, I got you.

I’ll admit, I was hesitant.

But you smelled like heaven.

And I have a thing for smells… and heavens.

You held everything I couldn’t bear to lose.

You held my hand,

confused, cold, scared, sweaty…

Maybe you held it the longest.

But you know about my septennial curse.

You never had much to say (as usual).

But seeing you now, beat-up and bruised,

I know it wasn’t a one-sided love.

Still… is it even love

if I left you used up at the end?