Cigarettes and Perfume

 Though nothing could possibly change my mind, I have still tried one thousand times. Tried to erase the scent you left, to forget the memories, burn the pictures, pour out the drinks. 

 Half full coffee mugs you left scattered among the surfaces in my space. My space. Where I spent countless nights, awake, wondering if I'd ever call it ours. 

 Wonder engulfs me as you disappear through the door, no realization crosses your features. Will this be routine or turn to dust before the sound of your engine revving reaches my ears.

 Thinking boundlessly has fused me and my emotions into one. I no longer control them, or myself. You do. Still, despite our newly found distance that seems to affect you none. 

 Having given myself the punishment of spending my life in a purgatory surrounded by women who look like you, smell like you, dress like you. However, they open their mouth, or walk, or drink, in a way that will never quite compare to the refined elegance you carried with you. 

 Always performing simple tasks in an angelic way, your tone making it impossible to consider the truth of the statement. Your eyes sparkling mischievously, never rising the curtain behind that gaze, never allowing one to see your soul. 

 Those simple characteristics no one else has procured, at least in my life time. You're a walking museum, of everything I want to love, the truest form of beauty, the only palpable interest. 

 It is evident that in your absence, I have figured out my time without you, is only a waste. I no longer crave to be alone, to smell of eucalyptus and rain, or to wake up cold in solitary. 

 I've decided none of those seem better than not waking up at all, nothing but memories held as proof that we existed. To be tossed between sheets with a head of tousled hair that I know you'd run your hands through; that may be the only thing that could change my mind. 

 It won't happen, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Absence does not make the heart grow fonder. It just makes it feel surreal, makes it indescribably dreadful, impossible to accept. Easier to believe they don't exist at all because the alternative, is accepting they didn't love you enough to stay. 

 My love, despite your absence, your honesty hiding eyes, your bad habits you made beautiful, and everything in between; this bittersweet ending will never compare. 

 I'll cease to exist, I do already in your mind, only this time it's real, and I'll go dreaming of you. Of us, having one more morning to wake up in each others arms, and inhaling the scent of cigarettes and perfume.