You left your white T-shirt at my house
and it smells like you, every inch of it

I run my hands on it,

try to hold onto its well-knit threads
harder than I held onto you

I examine its V-neck
and try to make the same angle with my thumb and index
as I used to do when you wore it
hoping that my hand can still feel your heart beat

I rub my fingerprints against its sleeves
and gently reach the armpit
hoping you'd be tickled
and you'd tickle me back

and I'd sigh, as deeply
and desperately
as I ever could

when I remember,
when I realize
my hopes will never come true

and I'd never feel your heartbeat
or touch your skin through the softness of its fabric
I'd never tickle you
or punch you
or hurt you

I would never be with you

and when my tears fall on your shirt
I hold it as close to me
as it can be

It hits me
this shirt... your shirt...
it smells like me now

and I could never take that away