The last of you

I washed your scent away, the last of you

when I cleaned our sheets – my sheets. That smell of smoke when you started again that sometimes lingered after the butt of fire died out. The smell of you; pheromones and sweat and lynx. The smell I loved, still love, in love.

Did you love how I smelt? Sometimes you said so when I wore the perfume you gave me. But normally you stayed silent. Silent until I coaxed those answers wanted and unwanted from you. I didn’t want the answer you told me when I said I loved you. I thought you just needed time. I didn’t want the answer when I asked again. That last day together. When time was lost.

That day that I wish I had held longer, tighter. But still I wanted to push you away, away from me, from my head, from my bed. But now I wish I breathed you in more, remembered how you felt.

I wish I had you, your smell, your body, just you, just you, just you.

Currently navigating my twenties by getting back into writing poetry, short prose, and everything else in between. 
Instagram: @the_inverse_


If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail

7 thoughts on “The last of you

  1. Love this wonderful composition.😊💙🙏

    1. Thank you so much!

      1. You are welcome 😊💙🙏

  2. love this … hope to see you writing more

    1. Thank you so much – I’m keeping my blog and Instagram updated if you want to follow for more!

    2. Thank you very much! I’m regularly updating my blog and Instagram if you want to follow for me.

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