in my closet,
I have a torn jacket
two holes in its pocket
a rip in its hood, and
a broken zipper

patches, and stickers
stains of liquor
from when i drinked
so that I wouldn't miss her

I haven't thrown it
it's precious, for some reason
to throw it away
would, to my heart, be treason

I wore it when we met
on that cold autumn night
when the freezing wind swept
the leaves to our left and right
a scene from a movie
or a novel, perhaps
I look back and I tremble
I faint, I collapse
my mind goes numb
stuck in the memory
of that autumn night of fate

I gained myself, but I lost myself
when I put my jacket in her hands