Did hope have a scent?

Some scents lock themselves in my brain and refuse to go away… like red breeze soap, your cologne and your chap stick that reminds me of the scent of crayons.
And there are phantom scents that line the corridors of my mind that remind me, and drag nails on my heart and replace all the happiness with suffocating, numb dread.
Who would have thought that a scent could conjure up many images of a life time ago? Time steals all my memories as you fade like ink on old parchment.
The scents haunt me , making me yearn for one more whiff of happiness, simultaneously strangling my grief riddled soul. It’s so obscure, to try to rid oneself of something that no longer exists but fills up ones senses again and again with the abandoned memory of yearning and hope.
Hope left when you did.