While the extravagant swear by their Chanel no. 5, I sit here and figure the smell of three things that I like any day; the smell of soil after the rain, the smell of food when I’m hungry, and how he smells like in the mornings.
The
music blared in the club and he held me close for cosy dance. While I let loose
in between and moved around, he told me I seemed different. Matured was the
adjective he used. As we walked into his room later that night I could tell he
was uncertain of a few thoughts in his head. Impressed, nevertheless.
I
wish every Sunday mornings began in his arms after a tipsy night, but we both
know familiarity breeds contempt.
seems you had fun in the club and i love your writing style is mature and mysterious sounding which is really cool
ReplyDeleteIt really is a shame that this life cannot be just a string of Sunday mornings. But I guess, then, the beauty in them would be lost.
ReplyDeletexx
Lulu
Breakfast After 10
wooooo...
ReplyDeletei think you should embrace this type of familiarity whole heartedly.
ReplyDeletethe smells.. i can really get that
ReplyDeletexx
A few moments, wrapped in smells. Kept close to heart.
ReplyDeleteThat's the perception of a true writer.
Firstly thanx a ton for ur comment...:)
ReplyDeleteSecondly ur writing is beautiful...u have a gift aprad....never lose it....
#cheers
^.^
Smells can evoke such powerful memories
ReplyDeleteMy favourite is lemon x
I love how you ended this post with "familiarity breeds contempt." You certainly write beautifully. I always wish everyday is a holiday and the same phrase shall apply.
ReplyDelete