Smoke Plaits

These orange blossoms that fall to kiss my face
are intertwined within the plaits of my hair
and the smell of banana conditioner I used glowed
from the strands, the one I used in summer

It’s not about being single
but here in my chest whilst I reminisce

The rain spits in my face and the smell of cigarettes
and smoke is stained within the fabric of my skin my hair is dampened and licked
with the humidity and it smells of nothing, nothing at all.

 

© Lydia Hounat 2014

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