I find comfort in the lint on my favorite hoodie,
It's been worn & washed too many times,
The *** hole riding the yellow line,
On the back road by my house,
Reminds me of you,
The way tick tacs,
Taste remind me of your breath,
You hated them, I shoved my brain in the oven,
It got so baked, & we laughed, my pen knows the pages like I know your hips, & face. And God ****** I want to draw words across your body in languages no one will ever speak, with my finger tips. But all you say is Hmm, and why. Starting to sound like my tooth brush after a while. I'll clean my teeth, & try to force a smile. I broke the zipper off my hoodie & they filled in the hole.