Drinking Deep

Once, she smelt of me while every pore of my body rank of her.

Her scent was mine and mine hers, till all scents died.

Now that she has left, her scent will dissipate.

My clothes will stop smelling of her, no more surprising smell of liquid tang from my hair.

Now that she has left, she has taken with her a book.

My book will stop smelling of me, maybe even start to capture her bottled brightness.

Maybe it’ll even smell of the person she belongs to now.

Discarded at the foot of her bed, raising tendrils of scents like a morning river,

gathering scents of so many people,

some lost, some found, some misplaced.

Like my shirt, I have collected many scents.

She is in my hair, my teeth my toes,

I drank her fumes in, deep.

Now she will cease to be.

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