sitting in a smokers car, passed 10 o clock, and i catch that smell of his breath when he curses whoever cuts him off, and i have never smelled fear, but if i did, it would be in that moment, when the moon turned the lights down low and all i could think about was how excited i was to write down everything that was happening when i got home. i love that smell, that dizzy moment when he asks what i’m thinking and i have 5 seconds to think of something that is more appropriate and less embarrassing than what i’m actually feeling. the glass has never been more half full than it is in this moment, when i watch him light a cigarette and find a curious new home with the lighter inside his pocket, i still smell of fear and i’m not sure if that’s okay as i tell him, “that’s not a habit you want to feed, ya know”, and he shakes his head, disappointed in himself, “i never thought i’d go this far”. he smiles though, i didn’t cross a line, maybe he’ll forgive me for being new to love. and i love the smell of those last goodbyes, the bittersweet, hesitant touches, the shy silence as we both catch our breath as though we’ve been running for miles. but we have, this is nothing short of a marathon, from excited to begin, to panting and begging for it to end, to never wanting it to stop, but desperate to relax again, and i love the smell after reaching the finish line, up the porch stairs, victory on the horizon, chest unsteadily thumping, and that sigh of relief when the front door closes and i hear the sound of his car leaving. i love it, i love exploring, i love the smell of a new cologne and finding traces of it in my clothes. i love the smell of him and i never want to forget it, i know now, yes, i love the shock that keeps me up all night, this constant thought above my spine, this smell of fear over a man, a man, just a man.
