Sensing You

I can smell you, your scent permanently lingering in my nostrils. The mint and musk drifts on clothes, sheets, hair. Anything.

I can taste you. The bitter, harsh taste of another. It stings the roof of my mouth and I gag for air.

I can hear you. Footsteps follow me wherever I shall be. Keys jangle. A song moves through the wind, you humming songs of detestable liking. Your voice haunting me.

I can feel you. Goose flesh envelopes me as coldness trails down my skin, lower, lower. The hair stands up like a mobile battalion, ready and armed. My face becomes flushed, and my head swirls in a whirlpool.

I can see you. The smirk, the secretive eyes that seem to know everything. You know everything about me. And yet I know so little.