Your perfume was intoxicating. It was addicting. Whenever you're near, I can't help but pretend I'm curled up next to you, drinking the smell of your perfume as you talk about your day. I can't help but think about how I would pull you close as I close my eyes to your warm embrace. I can't help but pretend that whenever we're driving back to your house, we'd be spending the next hours singing our favorite song. We'd be invincible, and we'd be free temporarily. I can't help but pretend whenever you'll be coming home, you'd greet me in an embrace that lingers even on our bed.
Now your perfume lingers with every stranger on the street after all these years. And I can't help but look back and hope it was you all this time.
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
