Memento mori

I want to tell him I like how his mouth tastes after he smokes, when his thick ashy breath hugs my tongue and tingles my lips. It makes me feel younger. It makes me think of sitting in the back alleys of coffee shops, of high school summers, of wandering through Chicago’s outskirts in search …

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Substances

I went out into the woods to forget. With the spring thaw came smells that tried to awaken sleeping memories, shaking them slowly, kindly, prodding them to stir. Muddy grass. Fresh pollen. Wet asphalt. Smells I couldn’t describe with adjectives but I still sensed all the same. I could only describe them by the memories …

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