Potpourri

Peel my sorrows.
Lay them out
on your rooftop.
Wait for days.
A bird drops
a feather sometimes.
A stray leaf
floats over at others.
Summer is long.
Towards the end,
they crisp up,
like potpourri.
Sweep them up.
Keep them safe.
In a glass bowl,
or a velvet case.
On nights when
You can't seem
to breathe,
plunge your face.
Inhale my sorrows.
Like potpourri.
Heady, but dead.