Smells, forever influenced by the unwanted scent of you.
I still smell it sometimes, when I pass someone who has the same (unfortunate) taste in cologne as you do
…
Grocery aisle 13 for baking needs, I’m almost at the spice section.
There’s a brunette man 10 steps in front of me, it is clearly not you.
I am a couple steps past him now, my face flushes, heart beat races, palms sweat, fear running rampant through my veins.
He smells of you, and my body has an instant reaction: Fight or Flight.
I keep walking towards the spices, but I need to look back and make sure.
I need to check that it is not you. I need to know for certain.
I know it’s not, he was brunette and you are blonde, I keep telling myself, but this thought is relentless.
I give in, turn around to check, and it’s not you. He’s brunette, older. I knew that, but my body didn’t.  
My body didn’t because it was tricked by the smell of you on him.
Like the smell of you on me. The smell of you on my sheets.
…
That one smell triggered a memory.
A memory of you on me, in me.
Fade in.
Now it floods back. Not just the smells, now what I saw, felt, heard, tasted.
Smell: your cologne mixed with your sweat and the alcohol on your breath
See: you on top of me in the red/orange glow of my Himalayan salt lamp in my dark room
Feel: the air on my exposed skin. the sheets on my naked body. your breath grazing my ear with each ******. your body on top of mine, you inside of me, spreading my legs wide open.
Hear: you breathing heavily, grunting occasionally
Taste: the alcohol on my breath
Fade out.