The scent that takes me back to the time we had hope.
Every time things got grey.
We’d go back to that place that wasn’t ours but felt like ours.
The scent that reminds me of optimism.
Of a life we promised ourselves.
Of looking out over private gardens in Notting Hill.
Watching the families play and the rich folk take tennis lessons.
The scent that makes me remember the dreams I once chased.
Alone but supported by you.
Body heavy from exertion and fear.
Locking the door to the smell of the familiar.
That place was not mine.
But the scent will always be ours.