Ella Writes

I pull the perfume from the very bottom of the box where it’s been for the past year and a half and without thinking I spritz myself all over. Before the first notes have fully been inhaled I feel a blow to my stomach, the grief is overwhelming.

This is the perfume I wore when you told me every day that I was beautiful. This is the perfume I wore when I would wake up and hear you sobbing while your fingers counted each bone that stuck out awkwardly from my shrinking body. This is the perfume I wore when you would hold me while I cried in my sleep. This is the perfume I wore when you promised you would never hurt me. This is the perfume I wore when you cried and begged me to love you like you loved me. This is the perfume I wore…