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: Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...