Remnants of (___)

remnants of (__)   

my red-filled room has a hint of smog floating about the headboard—

the floating scent of

(            )

all in the air.

the past packed away in my drawer,

memories 

stowed and 

                 hidden.

likened to a wildfire ravaged through suburbia;

my room still feels the smoke-filled aftermath.

my heart remembers 

home before savage nature,

remembers the hopeless anxiety in patience,

remembers the effort in 

dragging 

(you)

along—

all its love for momentary euphoria.

*

but now—char fills the corners of my room once so attached.

all in the air—

i smell:

(you) 

danger,

another reminder,

another reason,

passing seasons.

my fog-filled room,

feels 

burning 

doom,

like shattered 

pane,

but what knowledge 

gained?

like charcoaled 

memories,

teddies turned 

centipedes.

feels so much like youthful innocence,

gullible, 

painfully easy to 

convince.

through 

smoke, fire—

yet you still desire,

to know of a time where 

breeze 

means 

bliss,

nature’s kiss,

instead of coursing 

                                       (you) abyss,

where heart is 

missed.

*

my fog-filled room still smells like (home).

copyright micah hill 2025