I know this smell all too well
The smell of recognition
The smell of intimacy
The smell of submission
The smell of colours
The smell of new fantasies
The smell of music.
You tell me it’s not the same
Oh, but it is;
it smells like the first drop of rain on a starved land
It smells like the burning of leaves on a cold evening
It smells like a new aftershave cologne-
one you recognise but can never remember the name of.
It smells like the first time you ever distinguished the smell from your own,
realised you had been developing an entity on a new territory.
Slowly, but surely, it happens again.
It smells like the four letter word you don’t wanna utter.
It smells like him, her and you, and me.
It smells like the parchment on a paperback book,
it smells like an emotion you’ve known all too well.
Again.
It happens again.
