Senseless

I hear your breath, soft and warm against my hair,
a quiet sigh lingering in the dense air.

I feel your touch pressed against my back,
the steady rhythm of each breath we share.
You are right here with me,
your skin, your heat.

I taste the air around you each day,
a sweet thickness I’ve always craved,
lingering on my tongue, a flavor undefined,
seasoning my words with songs we never sang.

I smell your perfume, delicate and fresh,
a trace of coffee mingling with your breath,
a hint of rose water where you let it rest.

I catch the warm scent of Irish Spring
blended with lilac, a lingering thing.
The fabric softener in your clothes,
memories trapped deep in my nose,
reminders of late-night laundromat talks
where we spent hours on those quiet walks.

Your voice sang through my ears.
I knew then I wanted to stay near,
to hear your whispers, feel your lips
speaking close in soft, fleeting slips.

Now I taste the bitter sweetness lingering,
an aftertaste that leaves me reeling.
Your lipstick’s wax clings to my lips
like a corpse in a crypt where time slips.

My senses scream, they shout at me,
they tell me this can’t just be.
They know too well everything that’s you.
They shout, they scream, “What will you do?”

I open my eyes, read the note you left,
tracing the final lines, feeling bereft.
“I’ll see you around, somehow we lost track.
It makes no sense, but I’m never coming back.”

A heart drawn where you signed your name,
a love crossed out, nothing’s the same.

So I could hear your footsteps at the door,
smell the scent that’s not here anymore,
feel your arms holding me as I crack,
taste the hope that you might come back,
curse my eyes and the words they had to see,
burning every sense away from me.
Now all that remains are letters in black.
It makes no sense.
You’re never coming back.