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Sandalwood Oil Bottle

Little glass bottle,

Abandoned,

Forgotten.

Like a lost reliquary.

Asylum for love,

Sanctuary.

Small letters,

Worn down,

Blue

With a shade of brown.

Time stands still

in the bottle.

Encapsulated.

Inside,

all of our days.

Enumerated.

If I open it,

heady oil scent

will put me in trance.

With each inhale,

I know, my heart will race.

Bygone happiness

as if it belonged

to somebody else,

to a stranger,

that by mistake

swerved down

on my path.

It has been two months now

and the last drops of sweet-scented oil

are rolling down the bottom.

Wilted fingers spiked with fear

I cannot open the bottle.

I still and always will

remember when you were here.

Who decided to close the love

in that ungodly place?

Who can object that life

needs to be lived in grace?

The photo is courtesy of Tamara Zjačić.

#creativewriting #prose

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