“If you use perfume, you should have…One to use when you are with your lover. Both of you should like it. It is your signature he remembers you by.”
-“The Ethics of Perfume,” mindprod.com
With Andrew I smelled like an ocean
vacation, with sand-caked legs and salt-caked
hair, inhaling the morning mist rising from
the sea water. Even in winter, I was summer
in a white bikini, sucking the juice from a ripe
green apple on a beach in Italy.
Just a year earlier I had been a vanilla cigar
cloaked in musk, a feminine variety of sultry
sandalwood with a trace of sweetness that
reflected itself in my freckles. Kyle must
have thought I was mysterious, the kind
of girl who slept on a velvet pillow,
a peppery confidence he could smell on my neck.
Later though, Joe knew a grown-up version:
an organic spice, a creamy white flower planted
in a dimly lit room. A silk gown reclined
in a studded leather chair with bare feet and long,
golden earrings and fiery red nail polish.
The kind of woman that kisses your neck
and bites you—just a little—before turning
away; a woman who wears chocolate
diamonds wherever she goes.
Photo by Crazy House Capers on flickr