Traces

I'm a tired girl with buckets of feelings,

something slippery transcribed on a CVS reciept,

Tylenol and a gallon of water,

maybe the traces of this pain won't go unnoticed this time,

maybe the lengthy paper will end up in someone's gutter,

"I wonder how bad they hurt?"

I wonder how bad it hurts.

I'm a joyful girl with a belly full of sadness,

the traces my fingertips leave on this earth

have me wondering how quickly they might get forgotten

erased

wiped clean,

how quickly does my scent escape from the untrained nose?

They say sadness has a smell,

desperation reeks,

what does shame smell like?

Does it smelled like a crumpled up CVS reciept,

stuffed deep into a tired girl's purse?

I can't tell if I'm burnt out or getting depressed again but I printed out a reciept the other day for the first time in years and it got me thinking...