I saw you for the last time
before you left for Georgia
we hugged in the hotel hallway
people walked by, we didn't care
what they thought of us.
It felt like it was just you and me.

I mumbled into your chest, "You smell good"
"It's Old Spice" you said "now whenever you smell Old Spice you'll think of me"

Now you're gone, and I probably won't see you again ever in my life.

I'll see you when I stand in the aisles
In the store looking for Old Spice
So I can smell you again.

you've knocked my breath out of me
in a manner akin to dousing my head with ice water
and you've left me gasping
wide-eyed
wracked with undulations of shock

but i suppose i've known it all along
that i'm just another drop in a vast ocean
nothing special; expendable

but still, your affirmation
leaves me hollow
like you've shattered my bell jar
and left me
exposed

and i'm waiting for that dull ache
that accompanies losses such as this
but i can't help but think
that those who lament broken hearts
are mistaken
because one that is truly fractured
can't feel

anything.