Perfume
I keep a little bottle of my nannan on a shelf.
Simple perfume, one third full,
Left hanging behind as we are.
Sometimes, I take the cork out
And smell it.
I breathe in her scent.
The perfume of a lady.
Of red-pink lipstick and white teeth.
Of hairspray and a dressing mirror at night.
Of changing clothes twice a day
And a neckscarf just so.
I know I will never wear it.
How could I?
When in that little bottle,
In those concocted chemicals there lies
A little part of soul.
Not just a scent,
But the down of a kissed cheek
And the fullness of a hugged form.
This little bottle is of warm memroies.
To wear it is to become her.
A lingering scent to open up wounds
Hidden by those who remember.
So it sits. This part empty bottle,
Never to drain.
I smell it with this part emptied heart,
Never to forget.
I keep a little bottle of my nannan on a shelf.
Simple perfume, one third full,
Left hanging behind as we are.
Sometimes, I take the cork out
And smell it.
I breathe in her scent.
The perfume of a lady.
Of red-pink lipstick and white teeth.
Of hairspray and a dressing mirror at night.
Of changing clothes twice a day
And a neckscarf just so.
I know I will never wear it.
How could I?
When in that little bottle,
In those concocted chemicals there lies
A little part of soul.
Not just a scent,
But the down of a kissed cheek
And the fullness of a hugged form.
This little bottle is of warm memroies.
To wear it is to become her.
A lingering scent to open up wounds
Hidden by those who remember.
So it sits. This part empty bottle,
Never to drain.
I smell it with this part emptied heart,
Never to forget.
