Man of No Letters

a place for no arguments nor approvals

Poetry: Perfume

Like C’mon, this work was finished when I was stuck in a really bad mood. It reflects a bit of my personal experience, which isn’t always good for some imaginary work though.

Let the Perfume touch me
As it always wants to
But it’s my bare hand that holds it
A bottle filled with smelly liquid.

It’s not you who approaches me
(Have you ever wanted to?)
But it’s the cursed nature of physics
Busying itself with a sorrowful fool.

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