Is a lost ability I am only beginning to grieve.
Each sweet scent is a lost friend.
Each memory tied is a lost home.
A favorite body wash
A favorite soap
Are identifiers of the man I knew.
I lost those intricacies of my identity.
Now, the only person who can smell him is you.
Describing scent now
Is describing color to a person born blind.
Every luscious detail lands to my nose bland.
Touch and taste are experiences.
Sight and sound are familiarity.
Only scent is the final stroke
Painting familiarity into home.
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