Your clothes arrived yesterday.
My entire bedroom smelled of you.
I kept thinking about it. Your smell.
Your death. How could it be possible?
To have your scent in the same room with me,
Your scent, lively, from when you were alive,
How could it be cut off, succeed in surviving?
For how long? How long can I resist to
Put your clothes in the washing machine?
Will you stay? Will you leave your scent here
With me? I can smell your perfume on the collar.
The products you used, your scent on your sleeves,
How can it be there, how can it linger without you?
I miss you so much. I lit your candle just now.
There you are. With me. Your clothes are here
With me. I shoved my face into the multitude
Of textures containing your scent, touched, effortlessly,
By your skin, your pure soul, it hurts so much,
I don’t want that scent to go away, I grew up with that scent,
I loved that scent from the moment you were born with it.