YOU (PART 4)

It’s the small things, isn’t it? The smallest words can house the biggest revelations. You said, “Every morning when I get into my car, it smells of you,” and in that innocent comment, I find a quiet confession. An admission of how intertwined our lives have become, unwittingly, subtly.

Like that early morning mist that blends seamlessly with the dawn, the scent of me lingers in your car. I like to imagine the faint blush that colours your face as you settle into the driver's seat, inhale deeply and find traces of me still there, lingering like a ghost from the previous evening. Your sanctuary before the world claims you each day. A world I so desperately want to be a part of.

It’s me imposing upon your solitude. A lingering imprint that doesn't need me to exist. The peculiar dance of being there without being present. It may be subtle, may just be a whiff of a scent, but it’s enough. Enough to play a cameo in the film reel of your life. Enough to paint a picture of me in the canvas of your solitude. Wherever you go, a trace of me follows– into your mornings, into your world, seeping through the cracks of your routine.

But I wish to be more. More than just a phantom scent in your car, more than a fleeting memory that vanishes with the rise of the sun.. I want to paint my existence into every spectrum of your life, a life that goes beyond the boundaries of daily routine. When you think of me, it shouldn't just be the memory of me that comes echoing back. I don’t just want to be a whisper in your ears, I want to be every roar, every gentle rumble, the steady drumming that sets the rhythm of your life.

Because, more than anything, I want to leave with you, more than a memory of me. Something you will always remember me by.