Fragrance of September’s

As if the heavens swore in the name of love to create a part of it in my guts. As if I swore to him that you would be mine like an eternal curse, like a magic spell, or like an infectious disease that has no cure, like an overdose that makes me addicted, or like a perfume whose poison has spread throughout me and numbs my arteries! After all that, can the heart erase the sins that broke the its rhythm?! Or will the heart be covered with hatred until its death?!