I may be over you, but I still have those horrible days. The

I may be over you, but I still have those horrible days.
The days where I'm not sure when the pain'll stop.
I remember one of those times quite clearly.
I was walking downtown with my family.
It was Sunday afternoon.
I was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, and jean short shorts.
We passed some shops.
Then we reached a particular store, one I'd never been in.
The doors were wide open.
The breeze picked up the scent from inside the store.
It carried it to my nose.
I felt my heart in my chest.
It felt like it was made of glass, and someone had taken a hammer to it.
It was smashed to bits.
I couldn't breathe.
I gasped for air.
I nearly screamed.
I wanted to cry.
All because of that smell.
It smelled like you.
Like your jacket, when we'd sit together on the bus.
When you'd come to my locker.
Like your shirt smelled the day you had me up against the wall.
When you whispered something I don't remember.
It wasn't important.
I just remember being so close.
And that smell.
It hurt so bad.
Like I'd been stabbed in the chest.
All you'd put me through.
I'd told myself I was strong.
But that smell had reduced me to a puddle.
It put me in a haze.
I hated that moment.