Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

made of glass

who knew that a bottle of a
sweetened chemical would be
poison to the throat but
provocative to the touch
of skin, it would be the fragrance i used to
revel in, but now removes my
strength leaving me weak,
heartless, walking unsteadily on
the fine lines of nostalgia as it
catches my fall in the air

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: perfume

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