my world is leaking faith these days
there are no more life boats since
yours drifted away and my eyesight
requires glasses just to write this page
the smell of lilacs however demands
neither belief nor vision to sustain
only the sweet dream of its own creation
not for long do they bloom
purple raspberry and blue
before dissipating into the ubiquitous
green of summer leaving
those two delicious weeks in May
when the air once wore the same perfume
as the back of your neck
Sway: I'm glad you liked the poem. You inspire great thoughts in all of us. And as much as I would imagine how the back of your neck must often smell like lilacs, I think it would also be wonderful to smell you all wrapped up in latex.
