EAU DE SKINWEAR
- 9 hours ago
- 1 min read
By Hannah Gathercole
Your aroma was divine,
that’s what people said.
The women on your arm
noses buried in your neck.
Let them keep on thinking
that you were fresh and vain.
It's only polite for them
to remember you this way.
Our friendship was paramount,
your soul fused to mine,
and like glass, it cracked in half,
a cruel bout of stolen time.
They burned away your fragrance
With industrial-strength scrubs,
the reward for all my love
is eye-watering suds.
Let me retain your flavour;
burn that flashback from all trace,
like the Kama Sutra that I hid
when your sister cleared your place.
I took an unwashed T-shirt,
the last I saw you in.
Real molecules of you live on
the seams where your sweat clings.
You’d call me such a creeper
if you saw my laundry shrine -
jokes aside, when your scent fades
I’ll be sniffing Calvin Klein.