Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2021
You're scent is best forgotten.
Yet I remember your cinnamon hair,
Everytime the breeze carried the warm smell to my nose I smiled.
Because it meant you were still there with me.
We weren't in love,
Because we are and were,
too young to be having such big emotions.
But I know that whenever I catch the scent of cinnamon on an afternoon autumn breeze.

I will remember you.
Will you remember me?
Written by
Yemaya  15/Genderqueer
   Yacov Mitchenko
Please log in to view and add comments on poems