made of glass

who knew that a bottle of a
sweetened chemical would be
poison to the throat but
provocative to the touch
of skin, it would be the fragrance i used to
revel in, but now removes my
strength leaving me weak,
heartless, walking unsteadily on
the fine lines of nostalgia as it
catches my fall in the air

___
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: perfume

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