I am the creature who smells your darkest thoughts. That is how I know when you are near. Your mind leaves a fragrance in the air before your footsteps disturb the grass—a mingling of sorts, of midnight figs, extinguished candles, salt on warm skin, and something sweeter that has never learned its own name. I wander towards it without haste, as rivers find the sea.
Every hidden longing perfumes the wind differently; every impossible wish opens like a flower that blooms only beneath eclipses. You call them dark thoughts, but darkness is merely the hour when the invisible begins to breathe.
It clings to the evening, to the spaces between stars, until you no longer notice the air changing around you. You simply wake one morning wondering why the night suddenly smells like memory.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Posted for Prosery: Of Jaguars and the Night @dVerse Poets Pub
9 Responses
This sounds darkly romantic, all those scents that only belong to the night… great read
Thank you so much, Bjorn 😀 so glad the prose resonated with you 💄❤️
Beautifully constructed and full of such sensory imagery, Sanaa. The figs and the flowers that bloom only in eclipses. . . I would have known this one was yours!
I think you should write romantacy (under a pen name). 😊
Thank you for opening the bar for me!
You’re most welcome, Merril! 😀
I am so glad you enjoyed the prose piece! Thank you for your warm words 💄❤️
Sanaa, that’s a beautiful piece of writing.
Thank you so much, Lisa 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
I love your dark story, Sanaa. Great images and a wonderful story line.
As ever your imagery and gift of character building and story forming really shine – beautifully written – jae
Beautifully written, Sanaa, and a detailed capture of the ability to perceive smells. I love the mingling of ‘midnight figs, extinguished candles, salt on warm skin, and something sweeter that has never learned its own name’ and the thought of night suddenly smelling like memory.