Loss is the scent of an unwashed shirt. A last chance to save the scent of
STOP
space
Loss tastes of blood in the back of your throat raw from the screams because
STOP
space
Loss is time gone, mind numbed in a desperate attempt to forget
STOP
space
Loss is cracked lips from lack of care because you remembered
STOP
space
Loss is nights of sugar and caffeine, endless distractions because in dreams you see
STOP
space
Loss is new marks on a body where it once was pristine because
STOP
space
Loss is deaf ears and a mind tuned to a stereo playing nothing but white noise because
because
BECAUSE
space
stop
About the Author
Eden Nightingale is a Kootenay local currently taking Creative writing through Selkirk. She is passionate about art and can usually be found spending time with her rescue dove while writing or painting.
