You are not in my bed But you are still In my sheets I have tried to Wash you out By cleaning them Repeatedly But it just isn't Working There is not a Laundry machine In the world That could rid you From the fabric Of where we used to lay Together Molded by the formation Of our pressed bodies Stained with sweat Our ***, A pathetic excuse For intimacy It was not love But whatever it was Is gone now I have tried to Erase you From the pattern Of the blanket I sleep with It is the only Warmth I have left We used to drift off Wrapped up in Each other's skin Holding to shake The fear from Our bones The inevitability Of tomorrow We were never Made to last You faded Right before My eyes Everything your hands Have ever touched Of mine Still has your prints On it The material Can't let you go And neither can I.