Gone but not Forgone poetry It’s been 36 hours and with all the smoke and haze I can still smell you on my fingers but you’d think it’d have rubbed off on the car door handle by now, or the cold side of my pillow or the shirt I wore that day. Share this: Click to share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Click to share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...