Old Spice

Your arms, strong around my skinny torso, squeezing warmth through me. I breathe all of you in, feeling every thread of wool from your thick pleated jumper. Wrapped in so tight, patterns are printing onto my face and eyelids are in discomfort with the itch that I really don’t mind enduring. The sting of your cologne through my nostrils and filling my heart, causing heavy sighs and pounding beats raise to the tips of my burning ears. Old Spice. The haunting, timeless, classic musk that chokes me, snuggling into my memory like it’s a redolence I will never forget. A base note of pen ink from the little blue pen you carry everywhere you go, a menace, no lid, ready for any moment. If not resting on your ear, it’s drawing abstract art in the linen of every trouser pocket you possess. Admiration on how prepared you are for any sudoku or crossword that lands on your lap. Still linked to your arm as I watch you solving puzzles on your newspaper, studying your handwriting and the way your wrist moves with every curve and flick as you print on the paper. I read your face as you focus, revising every crease, the same arch on the bridge of your nose that you gave to me, the constant dimple digging into your cheek despite the lack of expression. The savouring odour of meat oozing off you even though you hung your chef jacket up before I was born, a phantom scent from your past that follows you no matter what you do. A bitter sweetness of apples soaking through your pores from the many pints of ciders you drank the night before. Countless attempts to run away from the life you once had, although blindly throwing away the life you have in this moment, masking the sadness in your eyes behind that mischievous smirk you give me before you gulp your forth glass of the afternoon down. As you resume unravelling the problems in the newspaper, I hurl myself over you, gripping you as tight as I can. The mixture of all the scents exhaling slowly as I release, punch a kiss on your cheek, hop off my stool and skip away, letting your aroma trail after me. 

As promised, your fragrance is still deep in my memory 18 years on - the last time I had you in my arms. A smack when I least expect it, a forever reminder of the longing torture that I will never experience that distinct, unique blend of smells again.