You’re never getting those clothes back, the shirts that found their way into her wardrobe, covering a person you’ve seen at their most bare. They don’t belong to you, not anymore; she never belonged to you, only found her way into your covers.
You still wear pieces of her, walking down Merrimon Avenue, in one of her favorite outfits, feeling so warm that you have to go home, and change.
It’s okay.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
You’re never getting those clothes back, the shirts that found their way into her wardrobe, covering a person you’ve seen at their most bare. They don’t belong to you, not anymore; she never belonged to you, only found her way into your covers.
You still wear pieces of her, walking down Merrimon Avenue, in one of her favorite outfits, feeling so warm that you have to go home, and change.
It’s okay.
