thewaitingone

The smell followed me everywhere today.
Death won't stay hidden.
The heat makes it angy.
Aggressive and big.
The sweet undertone is Loss.
No matter which way I faced,
it stepped up to me.
Nose to nose.
Palm on my chest.
"I'm not gonna chase you.
I'll be waiting when you stop."
The wind shifted as the sun went down.
I turned toward home.
I could smell cut grass.
I won another day.
I heard a call behind me
as I shut my door.
"I'll meet you at the end.
Then we can talk."
True.
But not today.
Not today.