This perfume I'm wearing, I like it. It's clean, smells like soap, warm skin from a shower. Little drops of water on my freckled shoulders. But every time I wear it, I want to crawl back into bed. I associate it with something sad, I think. Something sad, and being tangled in sheets wearing jeans, barefoot. Letting go of someone, wanting to hold on to someone else. Cuddling, knowing it would end, or conversely, never begin. It's pretty, but it hurts.
It’s a go between. Juicy summer scents and rich velvet and tweed perfume. It’s perfect for today; the skies are gunmetal silk, lonely and cold. I think of you when the streets glisten. Whoever you are. When I think of you, I see golden fields of wheat under a navy blue sky. A dark road to a warm and familiar destination. Drinking the cold air. White sheets beneath a down tent, and too many pillows. Wool and cashmere.
I can’t decide if you’re my past, or my future.