Scented

As I stood there at my usual spot, sustaining my usual posture, I caught a whiff of your perfume - or rather, the perfume you used.

The sweet, sweet scent of fruits and herbs that I can summon in my mind anytime, and so real, that I thought I could smell it whenever I want. The scent that I couldn't describe in words (my olfactory is not as trained), the scent that belonged to the memories that contained you and me and no one else.

I did not miss you, at least not as much. That sometimes I thought of you, this I cannot deny, because I have nothing or no-one to think of.

And when the molecules of the sweet perfume passed my nose, I sniffed into my lungs greedily like a hungry wolf engulfing its prey, until I thought my lungs couldn't contain any more air (and you).