The olfactory induced nostalgia of our first days
My lips on your shoulders
The pivot point to the crook of your neck
My head rests and waits for your arms
I wait
There’s a relief but only the scent is the same
There’s an ache from the loose embrace
I’m sorry
Thought and stopped being said a long time ago
Where is the grip we both had on our first days?
I wait
Vers Libre