You're like an old sweater.
I only see you when it's cold.
Each stitch, braid, and knit,
Delicately weave our memories,
Into a string of warmth and comfort.

But it's an old sweater.
Meaning that there are holes,
And places where the stitches become undone,
Like the relationship that we once shared.

So yes,
You're an old sweater.
Maybe one that I bought at a thrift shop,
Because even though I wore you,
You were never really mine.