I don't think about you anymore —
like an over-washed
shirt.

Faded.

Dull.

Stained and
torn.

Worn out.

Tired.

Used through time, and
used from
use.

I've used you too many times.

I’ve revisited your memory too much.

I'll keep you in my closet

like my worn, tired
faded
old shirt,

hidden, until there is
nothing else
to wear.