The days are starting to smell cold,
just barely,
like the girl who wears too much purfume
that walked past a minute ago, leaving her scent behind.
And my house feels your bruise,
but like a bruise you will fade
when your toothbrush leaves
and I can't smell you on my clothes anymore.
Soon I won't even see the purplish yellow tinge
and my lips will have forgotten
what your kiss tasted like.