On the pillow,
On an old t-shirt,
On the phone’s receiver,
On an empty bottle,
In unexpected corners
Of vacant rooms,
I find you.
Your smell.
Leftovers,
Of your presence.
Hiding,
Tucking itself into things.
Floating,
Soft and light,
Like a cotton ball.
And I keep breathing,
Sucking it all in,
Making it just mine.
And I keep on breathing,
Till it all seeps into me
And I’m full of you, again.
Perfume
Read more by
Lady Jughead
Lady Jughead