This is an excerpt from my upcoming dating memoir. It does have a title, and I’m excited to reveal it soon 😉 For now, let’s call it my dating memoir.
I don’t consider myself a poet. Still, I wrote this free-thought the other day: I was reminiscing about one of my past relationships. It came out more flowy and lyrical than my typical prose. However, this gave me the idea to include little lyrical interludes between significant chapters!
I also wanted to share something a little softer than my recent excerpt from Extraordinary Machine. I’ll be posting more from that memoir soon, but I love the idea of showcasing different styles. I am also trying to hype up anticipation for both of my books 🥰
Here’s a lyric interlude about one of the past loves of my life:
Lyrical Interlude: The Scent of Your Cologne
I can still smell your cologne.
The way it burned my nostrils and smelled like home at the same time. The way you rolled up the sleeves of your cardigan, your light brown skin peppered with coarse, dark hair.
The sharpness of your jaw, the way you smiled, your crooked teeth—your whole face lighting up just for me.
The way you’d hold me so tightly when we hugged, pressing my chest against yours, squeezing me a little tighter before letting me go—like I was the most special person in the world.
The glint of the lamplight reflecting from your glasses. The way you’d subconsciously wipe your lips when you thought no one was looking. Did anyone notice that but me? The stubble on your chin when you hadn’t shaved for a few days. Your dark, mysterious eyes, the piercing stares I’d catch you giving me when you were lost in thought.
The memory of you feels so close and yet so far, a nearly tangible moment in time that I can never recapture, never replace. I loved you endlessly. I still crave your crooked-tooth smile, sharp jaw, stubble, your touch.
I can still remember the smell of your cologne.
Like you, it stung, but it felt like home.