[Corneac]

I hate that smell,
What is it? Cheap soap?
Reminds me off him,
He’d lean over my bed
and just breathe over me,
Drum tobacco, that smell,
Funny, really, or almost
the hollow laugh of irony,
How I just smoked a smoke,
of filtered drum tobacco,
and I just washed my skin
with the same cheaply smelling soap,
and now I breath on my knee,
on the mozzy bites and hair,
of the boy that was,
and is now me,
and smelt the smell of him,
and cringed,
of the him,
still on me

[Venomous Vixen]

or almost
the hollow laugh of irony

and that is why I love you so much... hah well your poetry I mean. Without fail you have at least one mind blowing line in each piece... this was my favorite here.

The poem on a whole was, for lack of a better word, disturbing and unnerving. Perhaps you would have to be someone who has been in an abusive situation to really understand what you have captured here, the association with things and the memories they bring back, and the way you feel afterwards.

The concept... the soap and the smell, and the tobacco was fantastic! Almost like turning into what you hate, maybe hanging on to hate and abuse shapes us that way, who knows. Anyhow now I am off on my famous ramble.. I will spare you and leave it at this was awesome!

[Corneac]

Thankyou babe! I haven't written much lately, so I'm glad this wasn't bad...and I sorta like that line too, so it's good to get some feedback! Thanks babe.