The only odor he was longing for..
The smell which melted him, a year back.
That was a Jazz girl again.
He started to melt,
Presence of the people around him faded,
The Jazz girl passed him with a smile,
The dimple took away his soul desperately.
It Wasn't Love, said the Friend.
But it will workout, the inner thought peeped...
The man followed his Soul,
The days passed,
The sceptical movements interfered,
Both Went apart.
The distrust ruined!
Eventually, his friend started to advice him,
By perfuming the Jazz.
"It wasn't Love"