The Other Way Around?
you smell like war,
like gunpowder,
flesh searing screams.
i smell like grieving,
like ashes, and
dirt on the shovel.
you sound like hunger,
and homelessness,
and vomit stained lips.
i sound like the soup
that simmers, like the
blanket wrapped...
you taste like bitterness,
the lonliness of alone.
i taste like the hand that fits,
the shadow of the body near...
or am i wrong?
could it be the other way around?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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