the scent of you still lingers.
a piece of you is embroidered into my pillow,
and i can never bring myself to wash it;
to get rid of the only remnant of you that i have left.
so it remains,
the pillow tucked away in the corner of my bed, untouched.
untouched, until i miss you. until i lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
only then, do i touch it.
only then, do i hold it, and breathe in your scent.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 9:22 AM UTC
the scent of you still lingers.
a piece of you is embroidered into my pillow,
and i can never bring myself to wash it;
to get rid of the only remnant of you that i have left.
so it remains,
the pillow tucked away in the corner of my bed, untouched.
untouched, until i miss you. until i lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
only then, do i touch it.
only then, do i hold it, and breathe in your scent.
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