The scent of you

You know, even though you are no longer by my side, the scent of you would still catch me unaware at times. My head would turn towards you, hoping to take another whiff, comforted by the fact that you are still using the fragrance which was my gift to you.

Perhaps it’s silly, perhaps I’m imagining things. But the trail of your perfume helps me to hold onto the possibility that you are still using the stuff I gave you. It was one of the last things we share in common. That a tiny part of me is still lodged firmly somewhere in your heart and maybe, if given enough time, you would realise I’m still here and still in love you. Which I suppose is improbable because I haven’t been speaking or communicating with you at all. Still, I hold on to that scent because what else do we live for, if not for hope.

Little did I know, when you walked past me and when I could no longer notice that familiar scent you wear on you every time, numbness would enfold me. It’s like you have once again made another step forward, casting off the memories and gifts which were holding you back. Often, I suspect it’s my ego speaking when I think you are still bothered about me, or even care about what I do, just for a tiny bit.

The truth is my updates are probably something you have stopped look out for. So I’ve stopped. Since yesterday when I last said the rain always makes me think of the snuggles and cuddles. I didn’t add that it reminded of you obviously because that would be silly and more likely frighten you off, than make you swoon.

So I made a decision to stop my social media updates and interaction. Because I can’t bear to delete you away, to completely erase you off my life forever, to lose even that last bit of you. Yet I can’t read or know any more of your life that no longer has me in it. To know any further, or to know you might even be creating a new life with someone else, or that you have made another step away from me. Or to know when you laugh now, it’s not because I made you laugh but because of someone else. That’s something I want to be ignorant about. At least, for now. Until my heart heals.

I hope you are happy or in love, maybe even both. After all, if I love you as much as I have been saying or thinking this whole time, I should be happy when you’re happy.

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