Yellow
“Yellow”
I pump the liquid
soap in the bathroom
How Sickeningly sweet it is
and although now it’s gone
I will carry it with me
as I drift off…..
Yellow
is the smell of an
old woman's room
Plastic flowers everywhere,
windows shut tight
It lays like a fog
as a reminder
of whats to come
Death lingers
In the funeral parlour
Clinging to the heavy velvet drapes
settled in corners
like a blanket
Smothering me
Yellow
roses everywhere
in the air
and painted on the walls
Nothing moves here
time stops
Yellow sun filters
through darkened blinds
Hides the inevitable
in contrast
to the rotting flesh
propped up with formaldehyde
in crisp and crinkle fabrics
devoid of all life
Yellow flower petals edged in brown
drop slowly onto tables
Even sound doesn’t live here
This is where the dead
say their last goodbyes
And the living get stuck
in rose-scented memories
dancing on the wall
In the haze of Yellow
and the inescapable scent of roses
The incongruity of the two worlds meet
In the thick silence
Sticky like yellow syrup
I am reminded that
He is nowhere anymore
But I will take that scent
That feeling with me
Forevermore
Copyright © Melody Sokolow | Year Posted 2015
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