Refuge in Scent

I often build internal landscapes to escape the way my body feels. Deep, mossy woods with towering trees and dappled sunlight. Blooming gardens composed of giant flora under moonlit skies. Knolls filled with sweet grasses and wildflowers. I build sanctuaries stone by stone in my mind until they become tangible, until I can feel the floor beneath my feet, the texture of the bricks beneath my hands. Until I can see light filtering thorugh stained glass windows.

Perfuming myself makes the imagined more real to me. I breathe, and my lungs take in the air of a fantasy world. Heady florals, sharp and verdant herbs, unctuous musks, amber resins, grainy woods. Each note there to examine, and together, a symphony. A composition to digest. When I feel I can’t eat, I swallow it whole. When I hurt too much to be held, scent wraps its arms around me in an embrace. It comforts me gently. When I feel trapped and unable to move, it is an act of care I can take without leaving my bed. Perfume transforms me. I shapeshift into something new. I extend into something beyond the confines of my skin. I breathe, and I become. It heals some piece of my heart. For that, I say thanks. For fragrance, I am grateful.