A smell was a trigger
out of a free shampoo sample,
tangled all in my head. the smell
engulfing me in steam, I think I
hallucinated her, saw her face
glowing in the mirror, glowing
doing her nightly skincare routine.
How could I forget it? The decadent
Decleor French elegance in golden
bottles made of matte glass.
And one in particular –
Oile de angel,
the one she’d share every night,
a single drop on my teeny nose,
a scent I had forgotten.
An angel out of touch.