on the sidewalk you pass me by;
you’ll never give me a second glance.
but the scent you leave behind:
in your wake, tells me that, perchance,
you had arranged a date that night,
sprayed a little cologne or perfume
dressed up real good and nice
hoping they’d say: let’s do this again soon”
in the school corridor you walk past,
i catch a whiff of your deodorant
then you suddenly disappear so fast,
but the scent’s thickness informs that
the insecurities are coming back
you want to paint an olfactory
picture of yourself: no lack
of girly sweetness or strong masculinity
but at the end, what do i even know?
you’ll probably even call me creepy
“why are you doing this?” i suppose
or at least i think i’m just nosy