I have this very old pink Marlboro shirt
I don’t even remember who gave it to me
There’s nothing inherently special about it
Yet, I can’t find myself throwing it away

The years have faded its color
It isn't as vibrant as it used to be
Doesn't do what it’s supposed to
All the holes make sure of that

It can’t cover my skin
It can’t keep me warm
Things every shirt should do

It never was a very distinct shirt
No fancy patterns or letters
It just was

By all accounts I should have thrown it out
It’s a useless shirt that serves no purpose
I tell myself I should, but I never do

How can I throw something so useless away?
If I can find myself loving something useless
I can imagine other people loving useless things

I can imagine people loving me