Four words

Perfume: a strong whiff of you. If only I could keep you in a bottle, spray you onto me whenever I am tired of my own scent. Classy, rare, different. Manufacturers should pay you to wear their perfume. 

Water: thirst, a thirst that cannot be quenched. You used to give me bottles of water every day, making sure I had the normal intake, making sure it was always next to me. But I loved stealing your bottle. If only I drank you instead of water, I might have a normal intake of you, instead of droplets of you. 

Paper: my notes and observations scattered around my desk. Research, studies, theories of you. If only I wrote a better beginning and an end to our story. But you would say “the story hasn’t ended. It hasn’t even started.” 

Dictionary: words with meanings and definitions. I search for a word to describe this feeling, but I need to create a new word, coin it. If only you knew that your name is the beginning and end of all my dictionaries.