I still catch your scent on things every so often. Isn't that dumb? But they're things that have nothing to do with you. Like my roommate. Or a complete stranger. Or this one corner of my desk. Not one of your old T shirts (because you never gave me one).
I hate these strangers and desk corners for smelling like you. How dare they remind me of such euphoria? My nostrils fill with the scent of laundry, soap, cotton, and loyalty. ******* loyalty. My eyes flutter closed My brain fuzzes The corners of my mouth turn up slightly And I expect to see you in front of me And feel your flannel against my cheek And your dry, cracking fingers against my palms. But you aren't there. I get disoriented for a moment. I spritz. Sanitize. Breath deeply. Avoid that stupid desk corner Because I'm sick of being reminded that I'm still in love with you.