The scent is driving me mad, which leave traces in your footpath.
They watch as you dissipate with every single whiff of perfume.
Torn between love for you and greed for that oh-so-perfect scent.
I look at you and I wonder why you choose to dissipate?
You are still so beautiful even just as sculptured wax
Yet you melt, to please those who fall for your scent.
A candle with a spirit that runs away from my hands,
That fruitlessly try to capture you in a glass chamber.
Maybe I am the truly greedy one,
For wanting you to choose comfort.
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