Love, in Madness.
Dedicated to Adam Harker, the biggest Apollo I know. A scent from a stranger brought back hurt, it was love gained and lost and remembered such was loves cruel cycle. It was as though Apollo had her again between his lips, he remembered her eyes staring at him with every look she ever gave. Lust, distain, anger and wonder, he had disappointed and pleased but every memory was cherished with caramelised nostalgia. She was gone in an instant, vanishing like mist into the trees. His old loves number was still written on a postcard he could never throw away, it was all he had left off her. Digits that brought back her face, then that smell. He flipped the card between his fingers wondering if the number would work. He doubted that she would be on the other line but there was a linger of hope that purged through his subconscious, willing him to believe that impossibilities could turn into something real, that hope was something to thrive towards, that faith had meaning. His