I like the smell of smoke and cigarettes.
I like the way petrol burns my nose
And stains my clothes with scent
Lingers, unwavering, on the tips of my fingers.
I like strong things:
People, things,
Stuff to hold onto.
I like smells that make my head spin,
People who make my body spin
Music that allows nothing but itself in my head.
Things that block everything else
Out, away, gone, but
But, like the lingering smell on my clothes,
they all fade.
I like people who take up the space in a room
Who say the rights things,
At the right tempo
And leave no awkward silence hanging like a mist in the air
Who allow me to become them, fade away
I like broken things:
Pencils, jewellery, people
I find it difficult to get rid of them,
Like the smell of smoke and petrol on my skin.
