When you spill perfume,
and storm out of the room,
let the fragrance flood it—
freely float around, not sit.
It will colonize and live,
in hindsight, hints it gives—
at its hanging presence,
at its lingering essence.
Pleasant scent, unpleasant memory—
unwelcome, but not an enemy.
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Author:
Mya H. (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 30th, 2025 08:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Devender Kumar
Offline)
Comments3
Scent so strongly attached to memory. Perfume either soft and a lovely memory or overpowering and provoking headaches. A lovely poem
Smells often trigger memories some good and some bad, but they are only memories , nicely expressed and written, enjoyed the read
To me this emphasizes the old saying "don't cry over spilled milk". I like your version better.
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