Even after several months, the smell of the one I loved remains. It's on my favourite sweatshirt. It's on my baseball cap. It's on everything I ever wore around her and even when I thought about her. It's not like anything else in this world; I never noticed it when it made it's mark and it never seems to go away.

I love to remember those times, but sometimes it's too much. I have to put it back in my closet while the aroma tranquilly fills the room. It's as much its own presence as she was. All I ever loved and ever felt can only be summed up without words. Without images. Without sounds. Without feeling. But, of course, only with the sweet scent of love.

She could be days away from me, but with my eyes closed she's still right beside me here.

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