Your scent still lingers.
In my sheets, and in my clothes.
It's become a part of me.
It's in my hair, on my skin.
No matter how hard I scrub you're here.
I scrub, and scrub.
With soap,
a rag,
and boiling hot water.
You are still here.
My skin,
raw,
and pink.
I still smell of you.
YOU ARE READING
Paper Planes
PoetryLetters to him disguised as paper planes. I always think of you. Sincerely, Yours. 《Poems about my first love》
