The glass shatters
Her scent is still sweet and fresh
Like watermelon
But her voice is not the same
It’s sharp as a butchers knife
Bitter like vinegar

Only for a while
Then it changes
Now it’s soft and fragile
Weak
But her scent is still the same
Sweet and fresh like watermelon

When I heard it last
It was indifferent
Like a stranger you won’t notice anyway
Or a conversation you weren’t really listening to
She left everything but her scent
Sweet. But sickening
Like rotten watermelon