Published in
Nov 21, 2020
My Mother’s Perfume
My Mother’s Perfume
Wafts gently out with a sense of doom
I peek into her room
She gazes at the mirror
While I feel the terror
That perfume, that Ma Griffe
Has to me always smelt of grief
The spraying of the mist
Tells me that this is it
Leaving me behind
To question who I am