night comes with waves of perfume the trance of flowers is quiet and only the winds can touch the secret of trees, still sleeping under the apple trees gives one deeper dreams when darkness hunts me I remember your empty hands against the form of light how you struggle to find the archaic tune the chronicles of the invisible unfolding my mind recycles thought from sprout to seed the vesper bell plunges the crickets, the roundness of the heart deeper into the hour of the dark
it was the month of december the night you arrived by the light of the moon. the air smelled strongly with the scent of the pure and chaste blossoms that were white in color. the experience of breathing your aroma is like taking a whiff of a flower, which you could do for the rest of your life. that lovely vanilla aroma was carried by the breeze just before we crossed paths with one another. after that, everything in my life was turned upside down, and love came with your smell.
but now it's summer, and every flower is a bright shade of yellow. red, sweet berries will be taken off the branches by birds when they are perfectly ripe. i lean down to put my finger on a stem. how quickly my flower-filled youth has passed me by, and how dreary and cold this day has become. like the bowed vines, i shudder as rains shimmer with my own tears and fall.
a perfume was able to capture the nuances of my emotions and transform them into scents that i'll never be capable of throwing away. the same fragrance is still sprayed from the same bottle, but now it has an unsettling scent about it. it smells like fear— smells like fear for not wearing it as you used to. when i first smelled you, i thought i'd found the perfect perfume to compliment my soul. now, though, you're the one thing that i loathe which makes my emotions flare and my breath stop.
my heart broke apart just like the bottle of perfume i watched someone throwing it away on the ground. the perfume is not a scent; instead, it is a feeling that i had in my chest when i was looking for someone to wear with my favorite clothes. i loved that perfume, and brought it every single moment and used it as a reminder, a small tiny chime of all the bittersweet things you did. but now, it smells exactly the same as the scent that i despised the most.
as I left the theatre she held the door open for me the hint of a smile on lip-sticked lips slipping into her leather jacket to combat the cold night air leaving an intoxicating trace of perfume I'm just a face in the crowd that she never noticed or will remember " cheers " and an attempted smile as we interacted for the only time in our lives, but I miss her she stole my lust and a youth I never had
The way in which we cower away From desolate words Yet we dream of bottling them up To wear as perfume We carry with us to ports and piers Where the wind and water waltz And take our hands in a line dance Where fire can never touch the surface So, it lives deep in our hearts These are the ways I dream of our unconventional circumstances Wishing them into happenstances That could possibly bloom into purposeful love
but I fix clocks, and no matter how hard I try, I can't change time
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, memory loss is impossible to the sense of smell:)
ancient perfume box left somewhere in a classic loft opened moments in a meet to an old of an old sweet memory in a tape on a leash in fear like a flashback of brief to four years disclose the good not the sad never the bad already made sure to wear on the days of happy in mere and now the odor smells a swift of colors once in each while go back a little in miles a tickle to the nose something out of Beethoven's ears souvenirs the precious chandeliers things the mind randomly chose several pasts when my pen couldn't write and the piano served a beam of light in an ocean sinking deep with no motion escapes from each New Year's mistake for the lifetime spaces of the turn from the tackling faces pink floral promises of better opposites fragranced to keep a stay afraid a glass would slip away
I fear that I’ve been blinded by your love For once you weren’t there things became tough I assumed my happiness was in your presence So I made my perfume from your essence Sprayed it everywhere so I’d feel you It was dominant while your emotions weren’t true All the lies you fed me left me in terror False hope you gave me but I deserve better Fortunately, I have my family and friends Ones I can rely on while my wounds mend They have always been there for me And now the best version of myself I thrive to be My experience with them taught me so many lessons Some I wouldn’t have learned by myself I reckon Many people who are in my life will eventually depart But only true friends will leave a footprint in my heart.
Your charming perfume .. sneaked into me ... within my soul ... took me ... out of nowhere ... where i don't know to no where ... there ... where are you ... where always ... my soul roams for you ... to play with my breaths ... hymns of love ... to sing it ... with my mind ... as love song ... sings with your name ... to fly so high ... while singing your name ... to break up ... the distance ... between us ... to be with you ... inside your nest's heart ... there where could you be ...
your charming perfume ... is always ... my pathway ... where i get you ...
A mellow nose Gorgeous as the moon Mirrored in the lagoon
Your skin is tender Your uniqueness is beauty Of previously not seeing your splendor Your smile makes me guilty
Love is your center Kindness, your vitality Light in the dark, a magic mender Goddess of purity
White rose A perfume dose Peaceful as the moon Mirrored in the lagoon
Your scent is the trip And Paradise is my fate If constantly smelling your friendship Becomes an open gate
I will be your grip For when you are desperate Just accept the bee that wants your lips To pollinate your fate
White rose Striking a Pose Shiny as the moon Mirrored in the lagoon
This is the first poem of the second chapter, and it is supposed to show my new found love for this new person I met that made me feel amazing after a moment of despair. I gave her this poem adorned with real white roses to show my appreciation for her on her birthday. Coincidently the page and chapter that "White Rose" falls in my anthology is the date of her birthday, February 22nd.