You are the fragrance of my first dreams, the ones I dreamed before I had images or language or a person to love. The dreams we can’t understand once we have all these things, but dreams we recognize instantly as our own.
You are the fragrance of appetites, not just the ones that draw us to the table and make the tomatoes seem to define red, the onions define sweet, the salt define earth. You are also the appetites that draw us to open books, to run our hand down our beloved’s back, to walk deep into the woods even though the sun is setting.
You are the fragrance of underneath. Underneath the breath. Underneath the words. Underneath our tongues when we lie. The beauty underneath the lie. The fragrance underneath the moon. The longing underneath the moon and the fragrance underneath the longing. She gets up and walks away; you’re the fragrance underneath her reason why. She never leaves, really.
You are the tensions that hold us, the fears we live between and love. Knowing and not knowing. Loving and not loving. Being and not being. We would be nothing without them.
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| Sandalwood tree in bloom |
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