fragrance is….perfume and that smell boys have when you love them and after you leave it is left on your hair and shoulders as a reminder of how much you want to see them. Fragrance is individuality and distinction. you are your own scent.
It was the fragrance of a sweet and amniotic sea. I picked you in my arms and brought you to my chest. I rocked you gently. With skin so soft and hair so curly, your father and I marveled at the silky ringlets framing your chubby face. We joking called it your “Cesar” hair. Your newborn scent was one of a kind, and the only one this mother knows.
that fragrance, I can’t forget.
Every night, before I drift into a deep slip it comes back to me.
Its intoxicating scent, so desirable, so…dangerous.
I need to stop, grow up. Understand the craziness of just what I am getting into.
He’s a bad man, I have to remember.
mm i love fragrances, not the girl trying to get your attention fragrance, but the sweet smell of natural. everyone has their own scent, why cover it up. sometimes it can be a beautiful thing. to remember someone just by their scent. a scent and fragrance that no one else shares.
Sweet fragrances of apples in the orchard on a hot summer day always make me nostalgic and reminiscent. They bring me back to a time where mother would let me help her make marmalade for the village market in exchange for fresh vegetables.
Sometimes I still smell you.
Even in places where I know you could never be.
How can that be?
I will be okay
and then the fragrance of you will send
hopeless emotions rushing into my head.
I excuse myself from whatever i’m doing
and cry. Compose myself.
Back to life. moments gone
He was what I would remember with every other shoulder my nose would press against. I’d be looking for him, a type of man that may be extinct. But I have heard there is a man who still showers with bar soap.
It wreaks on your clothing. Every inhale is a bullet in my lung. You are everywhere. You invade my nose and the sour stringent of smell pierces through my body. I long for you in my life.
Evoking memories, the fragrance pierced through my psyche. What WAS that smell? The fragrance that made up my childhood, my adolescence, my early adulthood. It was recurrent.
what is the fragrance of rage? tall and large and dark and blunt
it has a shape and presence and it sits there in the dining room
glowering and pulling at its hair
challenging me as if that’s a full-time job
but the smell of it
is just plain and sad
is just old cigarrettes
is just mould from the clothes pile
is just hormones that I should expect
The fragrance of my life filled the house with a strong scent of melancholy. I wondered why I always thwarted my efforts to grow and be happy as a person. Unless i’m struggling with something, i’m dissatisfied.
nothing reminds one better of a good night spent with a lovely lady than the lingering smell of her fragrance in the air or on your clothing, smell is intrusively potent and I certainly like it. My favourite is Eden and any women wearing it is immediately more attractive to me.
rose, thyme, cardamon. The mist of it in the air. I’m in a dark dirt ally way and all I can hear is the hustle of the streets but the smell. It’s so strong it overwhelms all of my other senses.
I stepped into the hangar bay one morning, then the fragrance of a carrier at sea- the jet fuel, the grease, the salty air- somehow took me back to the Wyoming State Fair… a different time, one where my conflicts were for grades and girls, not the Global War on Terror.
The smell of you. Of outside. of male. of man. the smell of wood and sweat and work all over you making me tingle inside. A smell that lingers in my room and on my hands long after your gone. It helps me get to sleep at night. It makes me miss you more. i love it and i love you.
the fragrance of you is amazing. it stays with me long after you are gone. i want to smell that fragrance when i wake up and when i am going to sleep. that fragrance that i just cant exactly describe but it is uniquely you…fra-a-a-gran—ce.
If I had just 60 seconds, only 60 fragile seconds to write about one word. This word would be fragrance. There is truly no word with more fragrance than the word fragrance. How strange is it that one word can change the meaning the entire complexity of a piece of literature. To say the word fragrance is using the word death in the place of murder. The word smell is not the same as the word fragrance not in meaning but in simple beauty. Like the wet due on a fallen October leaf in a field with the early sun shining on it through the misty fog it seems to give off a fragrance not a smell. The fragrance is beauty and the image humbled by the fragrance it produces.
Smelly perfume bath and body works playboy perfume magazine inserts that smell goood yumyum aaaaaaaaand other good smelly stuff. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh not like my perv little sister who smells weird when she doesnt shower cause her hair gets amm stinky and we have to yell at her to shower. doesn she know people can smell that shit? ew!!! i remember when i was little i didnt shower a lot either! but at her age i sure did! in 5th grade i was a pansy. i would only take baths with the door open whats wrong with me! lol
smell good great tasty wonderful fragrance makes me happy I hope you can understand what I mean. If you can’t I am so very very sorry. You are going to die. But what is death? What is life? Fragrance.
the smell of her hair, her perfume, her pheremones, rolled gently off her upturned faced into his waiting senses. Mixing and melding with wet sand, crab grass, and the ocean breeze. He immortalized this moment, he sto
There was a strong fragrance in the air. I figured it must have been perfume by the way that I was suddenly aroused. I took a sandwich out of my pocket and sat down on the bench. The women with a huge face that I saw out of the corner of my eye just minutes beforehand turned out to be a wildebeest. OMG
I couldn’t help smelling my sisters fragrance as I walked by her room. It was strong and sweet. Like her favorite perfume. The kind she only wore on the most important of dates. Needles to say, I was concerned.
“Where ya going, Chels?” I asked in my annoying yet endearing little sister way.
“Nowhere,” She said flipping her wavy blonde hair behind her shoulder before treating herself to another spritz. “A date. With Brent.”
Same time, same place–same hair, same shampoo. Same face, same eyes.
You’re just…the same.
When I drove two hours or when I walked seven minutes, it doesn’t matter. You always look, smell, feel the same.
When you took the time to think, “Hey, maybe I should kiss her,” it would have been nice if the thought had carried through–
“What is she going to be like in the morning? ”
“Will I feel the same?”
“Will she feel the same?”
or, most importantly…
“Will we be the same if one, the other, or both isn’t true?”
But yes, if you’re asking, you’re the same and I’m the same, but we aren’t..
We’re different.
You’re no Savior. My mistake.
Woah girlfriend… you’re wearing waaaaaaayyyy too much perfume…. jesus, you smell like macy’s. Sheeshus. This is the golden rule. Spray, and prance. Its as simple as that! Thats my lesson for the day.
There is nothing worse than the pungent fragrance of an old woman when you get stuck with her in the elevator. The whole place stinks, and most of the time she is going to the same floor or higher. Your nose burns, your eyes itch and there is nothing you can do about it. She went to the perfume counter and now you have to suffer. Beh.
I never really wear much of a fragrance beside deoderant of course. I always feel like I either put on too much or too little. And then I end of not wearing it at all.
I sat there under the covers, thinking. It was dark. The only light was the television. I reached over for the remote and shut it off. I turned and looked at her. She was just asleep, lying there. I didn’t wanna wake her. I quickly kissed her on the cheek and wrapped my arm around her. I closed my eyes, her fragrance heavy in every breath.
It smelled so nice. The song was playing just like it should. But why was it? Why was she here? She really shouldn’t be here. But his house smelled nice. Not smelly, no cornchips or gross socks and underwear. Just… nice. It was different, it was wonderful
It is a smell. My brother is allergic to fragance. He does a lot of weird stuff. He is really angry too. there’s this bottle of moisterizer in the bathroom that has NO FRAGRANCE written on it so my brother knows he can use it since it wont make him get hives or shit. sosodd
The same smell caught my attention freshman year. I remember it clearly; sitting beside him as he set his arm around me, being pulled along by the wrist. I remember the moment he pushed my hair behind my ear as I bent to drink at the water fountain. I remember it all; but most of all, I remember the fragrance of his cologne that lingered on my skin for the rest of the school day. I smell it again now, on him. It’s the same, I swear it is, but it’s different. The first person I smelled it on made it smell of fear, of heart ache and a cold day. This person smells of hope, of love and faith and trust and all the things I had always hoped for. This person pushes my hair behind my ears whenever it falls in my face, pulls me along with intertwined fingers, always has his arm around me. The smell of this person lingers all around me all the time. This person is special.
I breathe it in and it tickles my nose and mind and imagination. It takes me places where I remember that smell from past romances. It is a clue, a token, a transportation and transfiguration device.
It smells good, makes me think of flowers. But not like perfume. Better, like spring, like the breeze, light, lovely. Pine trees have the calmest fragrance I’ve ever known. I want to make lavender scented pillows. I love the smell of sage, especially when it’s burning.
makes your shit smell delicious. they have many different types of fragrances: fragrance to make your shit smell amazing, fragrances to make your bod smell beautiful and fragrance to make your house smell good. Thee end
Bergamot – like a cup of fragrant Earl Grey. The scent of herbal citrus with a hint of Bay, this mixed with you, would I ever be able to say no when my mouth begins to salivate?
I sat there under the covers, thinking. It was dark out. The only light was the television. I grabbed the remote and turned it off. I looked over at her. She was asleep. I didn’t want to wake her so instead I just kissed her on the cheek. I wrapped my arm around her and closed my eyes. I feel asleep, her fragrance heavy in every breath.
The fragrance, it defines him. Sometimes when he isn’t even near me, I smell what he smelt like when we used to be close and I think of him. It was the sweetest smell ever and I don’t know how to describe it. The only word that comes to mind is his name.
fragrance is….perfume and that smell boys have when you love them and after you leave it is left on your hair and shoulders as a reminder of how much you want to see them. Fragrance is individuality and distinction. you are your own scent.
It was the fragrance of a sweet and amniotic sea. I picked you in my arms and brought you to my chest. I rocked you gently. With skin so soft and hair so curly, your father and I marveled at the silky ringlets framing your chubby face. We joking called it your “Cesar” hair. Your newborn scent was one of a kind, and the only one this mother knows.
that fragrance, I can’t forget.
Every night, before I drift into a deep slip it comes back to me.
Its intoxicating scent, so desirable, so…dangerous.
I need to stop, grow up. Understand the craziness of just what I am getting into.
He’s a bad man, I have to remember.
mm i love fragrances, not the girl trying to get your attention fragrance, but the sweet smell of natural. everyone has their own scent, why cover it up. sometimes it can be a beautiful thing. to remember someone just by their scent. a scent and fragrance that no one else shares.
Sweet fragrances of apples in the orchard on a hot summer day always make me nostalgic and reminiscent. They bring me back to a time where mother would let me help her make marmalade for the village market in exchange for fresh vegetables.
Sometimes I still smell you.
Even in places where I know you could never be.
How can that be?
I will be okay
and then the fragrance of you will send
hopeless emotions rushing into my head.
I excuse myself from whatever i’m doing
and cry. Compose myself.
Back to life. moments gone
He was what I would remember with every other shoulder my nose would press against. I’d be looking for him, a type of man that may be extinct. But I have heard there is a man who still showers with bar soap.
It wreaks on your clothing. Every inhale is a bullet in my lung. You are everywhere. You invade my nose and the sour stringent of smell pierces through my body. I long for you in my life.
Evoking memories, the fragrance pierced through my psyche. What WAS that smell? The fragrance that made up my childhood, my adolescence, my early adulthood. It was recurrent.
what is the fragrance of rage? tall and large and dark and blunt
it has a shape and presence and it sits there in the dining room
glowering and pulling at its hair
challenging me as if that’s a full-time job
but the smell of it
is just plain and sad
is just old cigarrettes
is just mould from the clothes pile
is just hormones that I should expect
The fragrance of my life filled the house with a strong scent of melancholy. I wondered why I always thwarted my efforts to grow and be happy as a person. Unless i’m struggling with something, i’m dissatisfied.
nothing reminds one better of a good night spent with a lovely lady than the lingering smell of her fragrance in the air or on your clothing, smell is intrusively potent and I certainly like it. My favourite is Eden and any women wearing it is immediately more attractive to me.
rose, thyme, cardamon. The mist of it in the air. I’m in a dark dirt ally way and all I can hear is the hustle of the streets but the smell. It’s so strong it overwhelms all of my other senses.
I stepped into the hangar bay one morning, then the fragrance of a carrier at sea- the jet fuel, the grease, the salty air- somehow took me back to the Wyoming State Fair… a different time, one where my conflicts were for grades and girls, not the Global War on Terror.
The smell of you. Of outside. of male. of man. the smell of wood and sweat and work all over you making me tingle inside. A smell that lingers in my room and on my hands long after your gone. It helps me get to sleep at night. It makes me miss you more. i love it and i love you.
the fragrance of you is amazing. it stays with me long after you are gone. i want to smell that fragrance when i wake up and when i am going to sleep. that fragrance that i just cant exactly describe but it is uniquely you…fra-a-a-gran—ce.
If I had just 60 seconds, only 60 fragile seconds to write about one word. This word would be fragrance. There is truly no word with more fragrance than the word fragrance. How strange is it that one word can change the meaning the entire complexity of a piece of literature. To say the word fragrance is using the word death in the place of murder. The word smell is not the same as the word fragrance not in meaning but in simple beauty. Like the wet due on a fallen October leaf in a field with the early sun shining on it through the misty fog it seems to give off a fragrance not a smell. The fragrance is beauty and the image humbled by the fragrance it produces.
Smelly perfume bath and body works playboy perfume magazine inserts that smell goood yumyum aaaaaaaaand other good smelly stuff. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh not like my perv little sister who smells weird when she doesnt shower cause her hair gets amm stinky and we have to yell at her to shower. doesn she know people can smell that shit? ew!!! i remember when i was little i didnt shower a lot either! but at her age i sure did! in 5th grade i was a pansy. i would only take baths with the door open whats wrong with me! lol
smell good great tasty wonderful fragrance makes me happy I hope you can understand what I mean. If you can’t I am so very very sorry. You are going to die. But what is death? What is life? Fragrance.
the smell of her hair, her perfume, her pheremones, rolled gently off her upturned faced into his waiting senses. Mixing and melding with wet sand, crab grass, and the ocean breeze. He immortalized this moment, he sto
There was a strong fragrance in the air. I figured it must have been perfume by the way that I was suddenly aroused. I took a sandwich out of my pocket and sat down on the bench. The women with a huge face that I saw out of the corner of my eye just minutes beforehand turned out to be a wildebeest. OMG
I couldn’t help smelling my sisters fragrance as I walked by her room. It was strong and sweet. Like her favorite perfume. The kind she only wore on the most important of dates. Needles to say, I was concerned.
“Where ya going, Chels?” I asked in my annoying yet endearing little sister way.
“Nowhere,” She said flipping her wavy blonde hair behind her shoulder before treating herself to another spritz. “A date. With Brent.”
Same time, same place–same hair, same shampoo. Same face, same eyes.
You’re just…the same.
When I drove two hours or when I walked seven minutes, it doesn’t matter. You always look, smell, feel the same.
When you took the time to think, “Hey, maybe I should kiss her,” it would have been nice if the thought had carried through–
“What is she going to be like in the morning? ”
“Will I feel the same?”
“Will she feel the same?”
or, most importantly…
“Will we be the same if one, the other, or both isn’t true?”
But yes, if you’re asking, you’re the same and I’m the same, but we aren’t..
We’re different.
You’re no Savior. My mistake.
Woah girlfriend… you’re wearing waaaaaaayyyy too much perfume…. jesus, you smell like macy’s. Sheeshus. This is the golden rule. Spray, and prance. Its as simple as that! Thats my lesson for the day.
There is nothing worse than the pungent fragrance of an old woman when you get stuck with her in the elevator. The whole place stinks, and most of the time she is going to the same floor or higher. Your nose burns, your eyes itch and there is nothing you can do about it. She went to the perfume counter and now you have to suffer. Beh.
I never really wear much of a fragrance beside deoderant of course. I always feel like I either put on too much or too little. And then I end of not wearing it at all.
like a blowing fragance of mild flavor, whichever wanted to be that stupor blinding thing. Or whatever a odor is.
I sat there under the covers, thinking. It was dark. The only light was the television. I reached over for the remote and shut it off. I turned and looked at her. She was just asleep, lying there. I didn’t wanna wake her. I quickly kissed her on the cheek and wrapped my arm around her. I closed my eyes, her fragrance heavy in every breath.
I DONT WANT TO WRITE ABOUT FRAGRANCE ANYMORE. GIVE ME A NEW WORD………. CMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON WOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
It smelled so nice. The song was playing just like it should. But why was it? Why was she here? She really shouldn’t be here. But his house smelled nice. Not smelly, no cornchips or gross socks and underwear. Just… nice. It was different, it was wonderful
It is a smell. My brother is allergic to fragance. He does a lot of weird stuff. He is really angry too. there’s this bottle of moisterizer in the bathroom that has NO FRAGRANCE written on it so my brother knows he can use it since it wont make him get hives or shit. sosodd
his fragrance lingered on the shirt she wore
she buried her face in the pillow that smelt of his hair
she missed him as soon as he stepped out that door
he left her with nothing but
that fragrance
that sent memories flooding back with each inhale
her scent was covering up his indescribable unique smell
she was ruining the only thing she had left of him.
The same smell caught my attention freshman year. I remember it clearly; sitting beside him as he set his arm around me, being pulled along by the wrist. I remember the moment he pushed my hair behind my ear as I bent to drink at the water fountain. I remember it all; but most of all, I remember the fragrance of his cologne that lingered on my skin for the rest of the school day. I smell it again now, on him. It’s the same, I swear it is, but it’s different. The first person I smelled it on made it smell of fear, of heart ache and a cold day. This person smells of hope, of love and faith and trust and all the things I had always hoped for. This person pushes my hair behind my ears whenever it falls in my face, pulls me along with intertwined fingers, always has his arm around me. The smell of this person lingers all around me all the time. This person is special.
I breathe it in and it tickles my nose and mind and imagination. It takes me places where I remember that smell from past romances. It is a clue, a token, a transportation and transfiguration device.
shit smells great! makes my stinky ass smell like flowers! :) mnm,lmk
It smells good, makes me think of flowers. But not like perfume. Better, like spring, like the breeze, light, lovely. Pine trees have the calmest fragrance I’ve ever known. I want to make lavender scented pillows. I love the smell of sage, especially when it’s burning.
makes your shit smell delicious. they have many different types of fragrances: fragrance to make your shit smell amazing, fragrances to make your bod smell beautiful and fragrance to make your house smell good. Thee end
Bergamot – like a cup of fragrant Earl Grey. The scent of herbal citrus with a hint of Bay, this mixed with you, would I ever be able to say no when my mouth begins to salivate?
I sat there under the covers, thinking. It was dark out. The only light was the television. I grabbed the remote and turned it off. I looked over at her. She was asleep. I didn’t want to wake her so instead I just kissed her on the cheek. I wrapped my arm around her and closed my eyes. I feel asleep, her fragrance heavy in every breath.
The fragrance, it defines him. Sometimes when he isn’t even near me, I smell what he smelt like when we used to be close and I think of him. It was the sweetest smell ever and I don’t know how to describe it. The only word that comes to mind is his name.