your perfume
by technically okay

your perfume smells like
an intoxicating embrace
gossamer strands of hair coiling in the wind
lips caressing lips in a delirious moment
and a susurrus of luscious, honeyed words.

your perfume smells like
wet concrete after the rain
luminous street-lights speckled with grime
tires screeching past red stop lights
and metal screaming against metal.

your perfume smells like
yellowed newspaper with forgotten obituaries
incense sticks crumbled atop smoldering diaries
pressed flowers with brittle petals drifting
and a broken, golden ring left to dull.