When we walked, we talked and I'd get distracted.
Because he smelled so good and I got attached to it.
Like the only thing my brain could focus on was the scent that radiated from his chest.
Like he knew the thing in my chest would buzz from it.
And when he embraced me, his scent intertwined with mine.
So when we parted, I was still intoxicated by the smell of his skin like something was about to begin.
And even though now, the scent has washed away, it lingers in my brain.
And I can't wait to breathe it in again.
YOU ARE READING
The Romantics of a Silly Person
Roman d'amourThis is probably my worst one yet. But I enjoy romance as much as the next guy (when I'm not throwing up after seeing my best friends gazing into each other's eyes). Like, I'm the first to be invested in a university love story or someone finally gr...
