This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at TAMU chapter.
maybe time travel is real.
it doesn’t come in the physical sense of being transported.
i won’t be waltzing in an 18th-century ball,
but when that stranger walked by me,
and i smelled his cologne,
i was back in your arms again.
–
it’s not always a smell.
it’s also the opening notes of that song
or the way the air feels right before a storm.
the itchiness of laying in the grass, the dampness of the nighttime ground,
a missing canine in an otherwise perfect smile.
–
it’s not lonely,
not usually,
not more than before.
–
but those things make me miss being lonely with you.