Misty
When you were small, the sounds and spells
blazed through you like the pure perfect blue fire of history
never ashamed of your youth.
Gulping for air, you’d find your voice
in the seething, constant, messy wonder
of the world in which you’d grow.
At the flame of the blue fire
you’d warm your hands and say,
“Oh, that’s all there is”
all wise
And you’d take in the light of all that is powerful:
you would be young and you would be in love.
Love never lasts until it does,
but until it does, your tummy will knot and tears will well
And your eyes will know exactly when the salty rush
will gush over like they opened the dam and drowned the field
Summers will end and when they do
You’ll light the fire once more
Blue and ancient, it lights up
What looks like infinity
———
Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, Misty is an ode to tears spilt over love, loss, happiness, and agony. It is a both sad and hopeful fragrance, a Misty morning, overcast but perhaps the clouds are burning off.
When you were small, the sounds and spells
blazed through you like the pure perfect blue fire of history
never ashamed of your youth.
Gulping for air, you’d find your voice
in the seething, constant, messy wonder
of the world in which you’d grow.
At the flame of the blue fire
you’d warm your hands and say,
“Oh, that’s all there is”
all wise
And you’d take in the light of all that is powerful:
you would be young and you would be in love.
Love never lasts until it does,
but until it does, your tummy will knot and tears will well
And your eyes will know exactly when the salty rush
will gush over like they opened the dam and drowned the field
Summers will end and when they do
You’ll light the fire once more
Blue and ancient, it lights up
What looks like infinity
———
Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, Misty is an ode to tears spilt over love, loss, happiness, and agony. It is a both sad and hopeful fragrance, a Misty morning, overcast but perhaps the clouds are burning off.