lavender burns

The night after he was gone, 
the house was quiet, still. 

I couldn't feel him, 
not his spirit or his aura, 
not like I wanted to. 

He had simply vanished.

I awakened my third eye
hoping that maybe she could find
a wisp of something 
something my mortal mind could not. 

And though she searched
probing near and far 
there was nothing behind the cobwebs 
only dust and memory.  

It was then that I started to clean 
thinking that a refresh 
could resurface something, anything. 

I collected lavender 
from the bush outback,
some fresh leaves, 
some dried branches,
I added words on paper
and lit a match, 
watched it all burn, 
the smoke rise. 

until smoke signals 
encouraged by the western winds
seeped into every room, 
into every crevice around the apartment 
leaving me mesmerized.
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