Lingering Scent

The drawer creaks open,

a ghost trapped in fabric folds.

Cologne like cold smoke,

soft and stubborn,

hanging in the air where absence sits.

I press my face close,

to the half-empty pocket,

breathing in memories

that curl and fade

against the dust.

The room is quieter now,

but the scent holds its ground,

a trace too sharp to vanish,

too sudden to be gone.