My Lady, her Scent

Her perfume bottle felt empty.
She tried to pull out the remaining drops.
Her scent floated away
like a whisper in the wind,
a moment left behind.
And as it
sat in the neck of
her palm,
elegantly,
as the tears bloated
through the portal of the
blue bottle,
dripping
onto the slender
nape of her wrist,
he sucked
it up with
the width of his nostrils,
a moment left to his very own,
as the rose petals
filled his heart
and he knew he could never
let
her
go.