(November 17, 2014 // 11:24 P.M.)

I haven't worn my perfume in awhile, and as I sprayed it along the lines of my blouse today, I felt the memories of you linger within each drop.

As the aroma filled my lungs, as did the harsh coldness that comes with the thought of you.

I couldn't breathe, yet the pain that crushed my chest came so effortlessly, and it hasn't left quite yet.

This scent doesn't just carry a floral character, it carries you; it holds the mornings you'd enjoy it as it filled your front seat, the nights you let it fill your lungs after dropping me off, and the evenings of having to walk passed it during your shift at work, having to remember that the thick air of my perfume is all you have left of me.