Shampoo by Maryna Yanovska

The smell of your shampoo

has always been the first thing, which came to my mind the moment, I was asked about you. That overpriced shampoo, impossible to buy in any local shops. You've always hated it, when I've been using it. Not because of its price, or the enormous amount of it, I've been using each time. (It's your words, not mine). But because sharing it with me, felt like you were sharing yourself, your life. Because it felt, like I was invading your territory and taking away your space, your being. 

It's gone now. You don't use the shampoo. Don't smell so exquisite and cosy. It's all gone with the light in your eyes. With the strength in your arms. The pretty chubbiness of your cheeks. With the healthy blush if them. It's all gone with your hair. 

This disease, we're not naming, not out of fear, but because of the unpleasant sound it makes, takes everything from you. Yet here we are. Staying up till late. Talking of nonsense and counting stars in the cloudy sky. We're fighting for our mornings, getting the breathtaking sunrises as the victories. Big victories in even larger war. Not the one, which concerns everyone. But our own war as well. And you, my little fighter, decided to be on the winning side. 

I'm here for you. With you. I'll be helping you. Making it easier. I'll be taking my part to bring the victory to our home. You made me promise that. So it's not something, I can ignore. Your breath is quieter than usual, darling. You must be tired. Sleep my love. I promise, I'll describe you the colours of the sky at the down. 

Rest well, my dear. I'll be here. Searching for proper army uniform. 

Sleep, my heart. I'll be there, protecting your dreams. Searching on the Internet, to become able to protect your sky. 

Don't worry, my love. I'll be here to protect your peace.