It’s the t-shirts on parade
and imagining that the new girl feels bad for me.
It’s that the new girl isn’t the new girl
but that she is the girl.
It’s that I wasn’t ever actually the girl
and she will never know the significance of each shirt.
It’s the feeling that I will only ever be a footnote
in the partners I’ve shared.
The feeling that I won’t ever be the headliner
only the one that came before or after.
I've got great taste in t-shirts though.
I am not sure that this is exactly what I wanted to do with the idea "T-shirts on parade" that has been ping ponging around my brain for the better part of a year, but it is what came tonight. Maybe lancing this ******* open and letting some of the poison out will be enough to make the throbbing stop for now.