​Finally,
acceptance.
The petals,
dried and crumbled,
the pages
cracked and yellow,
yielding to time,
like me,
their future,
dust.
The words
that were written
are indelible
in my heart.
The fragrance
of the gardenia
you tucked
behind your ear
as you swept
your hair back,
exposing your neck,
combined with
sandalwood oil,
that glistened
on your satin
skin.
I was,
and will
forever be,
intoxicated,
by the
sight,
scent,
feel,
and taste
of you,
the memories
of same,
and pray
they linger
at least
as long as I.

M. Zane McClellan

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