I am the shirt you bought
when love was kind

you pressed your head
against the garment rack
and held my ridged noose
like a child
that finds grip
in calloused hands  
and you found
brawn in
polyester sleeves
and warmth
in my youth´s
tender cotton

You bought me
when you still
prayed to silence
and howled in whispers,
with your teeth latched onto
the mesh bars
of a silver cage
and you called me your equinox
and I was your hope
when you didn't know
my name

You wore me,
when you still
wished time
would run away,
when all your past felt binding
and the unknown was safe


I am the shirt that you now keep
all paint-stained and shriveled
in your locked  
bedroom drawer

the one you catch a glimpse of
next to the lonely sock
and your father´s shirts
(the ones still stained with
blood and ***, the ones
that taught you to be fair)
and now you dare and
look at me with
soft despair
when I can't help but shed the
ocean

When
I become the air that seethes
through the accidental
armpit hole
Or the break of air between
the kiss you share
with the one you love