oh god the depressing silken undertones
of her bra and *******, I have like buried
treasures hidden in my bottom drawer
that haunt me with the night
the memories
good yet sort of malevolent and sick and worried
I am becoming obsessed
with something so far out of reach instead of
thanking her and cupid for that one
special night
I try to keep that bottom drawer locked from
Her, my new live  in, I think I saw marks  on the
latch like someone was trying to get in
so now I am keeping the bra and ******* in my back pocket
and my co-workers are beginning
to whisper behind my back,
I have got to get a storage unit
and pay twenty dollars a week to
store these things,
or am I just losing it?