I Smelled Him In My Pillow

He wore a cologne that made my heart stop
like rain on a sunny day in a coming spring.
His voice was soothing,
mystical: Billie Holiday,
getting ready to sing.
I smelled him in my pillow the next night.
Hours after he left with hugs
that seemed to offer future promises.
His taste, his touch,
his gaze,
too untrustworthy for me to ever wallow in.
Alone, I still contemplated what could never be.
Lifestyles far too different; too complex,
But still refused to listen
or to see.
I knew it would end,
but still hoped to be the girl somehow written for the script.
Accepting false precisions,
I had given up on all fortitude,
essentially lost my grip.

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poem by Dylan Rivera
Added by Poetry Lover
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