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Lance Remir Jul 10
You hated the smell of cigarettes 

So I stopped smoking 

Even when you're long gone

I still haven't picked it back up

Because I am still hopeful

That you'll come back

Bumping into you, talking to you

And still showing 

I cared about the little things 

After all this time
Mrs Timetable Jun 21
I imagined the scent of you
To be what love smells like
To be what kindness bubbles with
To be a beautiful spicy soft aroma
With the strength of leather
Smooth yet unbreakable
Inhale...
If only I could bottle you
And spray you on me
When I need it
neth jones May 30
the rotting process                  
proof of life  dampens the air
with pine-like fragrance
transfusional breath confirms
      i'm one with the earth
29/05/25 / early version 21/05/25 :the rotting process/proof of life  dampens the air/with such fragrance/i'm given morning fusion/man confirmed part of nature
To those
who abandon the very souls
they once vowed
to die for

hear this...

Even a flower,
plucked and dead
in your careless hand,
will gift you
its fragrance.

It does not curse.
It does not withhold.
It bleeds beauty
for the one
who tore it
from its roots.

So too
do the truest hearts,
they bloom
for their betrayers,
and love
even as they wither.
Gifts of the broken
neth jones May 30
the rotting proves Living
its fragrance  dampens the air
a good morning
20/05/25 version 2.good morning proof of life/the rotting  its fragrance/dampens the air 3. rotting proves living/the fragrance dampens the air/good morning fusion 4. the rotting process /fragrance  dampens the morning air/living fusion
Cadmus May 7
(A Symphony in the Air)

She passed
and the air forgot its name.
A trail of fire, wrapped in flame.
Not footsteps, no… she left a bloom,
a whispered spell, a haunting plume.

Jasmine bruised with midnight spice,
vanilla smoke and crushed device,
amber kissed by ancient lore,
and musk like sin behind a door.

It wasn’t scent, it was a hymn,
a chorus pouring from her skin.
Each note a memory, raw, refined,
a fingerprint the soul designed.

It danced on silk, it clung to bone,
it made the silence overgrown.
You smelled her once, now every room
aches for that ghost…
that perfume.

It wasn’t soft… it struck like wine,
first sweet, then heat, then serpentine.
It woke the dark, it stirred the bed,
it crowned the lips where words had fled.

Men forgot their vows that night.
Women wept with pure delight.
Time itself stood still to breathe
a scent like that will never leave.

It lives in coats, in creaking floors,
on letters slipped through velvet doors.
You lose her, yes - she slips too soon.
But you will always keep her perfume.
Perfume is more than fragrance , it’s a memory with a pulse, a phantom that lingers longer than presence itself. This poem captures how scent seduces, imprints, and outlives even the moments it was made for.
Your smell is a warmth
I can’t touch
but feel in every breath.

The air carries your smell to me,
like a secret message
only I can understand.

In every breath,
I feel closer to you,
as if your essence
is the thread
that weaves us together,
stitching my soul to yours.

I want to smell you even more,
to breathe you in even closer,
to let your presence
fill every part of me.

I want to live in a world
where your scent is the atmosphere,
wrapping me in a love so deep,
where the universe itself
holds us together.
Lynn Mar 19
"Hmm, lavender"
He murmured into my hair
He smiled against my scalp sensing my despair
I smiled up at him "my shampoo"
His hands on me feel taboo
And suddenly
I regret
Washing my hair
With
Lavender shampoo
Ian K Mar 17
Everywhere I could be
your scent persists.
Vibrant.
Brissiling.
Blooming        out
to the edge of sight.
This bed of flowers that follows.
What fragrant colors
fill my day: Platinum, pale gold, indigo
as you linger on me,
rested in rich black
soil. So familiar
it seems a mirage.
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