|Dress: Morgan James, Photography: Shalyn Nelson|
Sillage (n.) pronunciation 'sE-yazh:
The scent that lingers in the air, the trail left in the water, the impression made in space after something, or someone has been gone.
Some things, some, indescribable things, become delicate aches of sweet longing. Like the smell of cologne that traces through the air. Or the imprint on your skin after his hand disappears. The cursive lines left from a kiss. Or the parentheses of a smile. A place; a hallway. A moment; a feeling. The contrails of the plane as it leaves, writing his name in clouds. The dot dot dot. And all the time spent spinning inside clocks. The silhouette you see when you close your eyes. The melody that plays when the song ends. The constellations I've built from maps drawn of your freckles. And how, no matter what I do, your love never escapes me.