I bet your hardwood floor
Still supports that shirt.
Your maroon one I wore
After losing my skirt.

Now, your roommate is telling you
To help clean up your place.
Blaring "R.I.P. 2 My Youth".
Searching for what's been misplaced.

The dusty floorboards creak
Under the weight of it all.
It's only been one week
Since intimate nightfall.

You're wearing ***** clothes;
And you can't bear to do laundry.
Because once you start a load,
You'll have to accept the palm trees.

The desert that awaits you,
And the life you're leaving behind.
Telling me that, if we bump into
Each other, we won't be ill-timed.

I bet that maroon shirt is precisely
Where I left it.
Before you decisively
Determined we were unfit.