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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
Scent Memory
I smell her
There is no reason for her to be here,
but there it is.
Like a leaf brought in to a stone garden by a storm,
I am shaken.
Repeatedly, I turn around to find her.
I expect her arms to throw around my neck
and her voice to ring through the room.
I can't figure out why.
What could be emitting her scent?
It tortures me, so sweetly.
Her smell is so comforting,
but in the worst way.
I melt in to the comfort of knowing her
then come crashing down due to the remembrance,
the remembrance that she betrayed me
She no longer wants me and that sweet smell is a lie.
"Neee- chan," I hate you. I should hate you.
Why don't I?

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