these cotton sheets no longer wear your name like it's their favorite cologne, but the room surrounding this prison of a bed has yet to be decluttered of you
faded purple flowers sit in a vase on my desk, they've been there since my last good memory of you, back when you said you loved me too
a promise ring that no longer lives on my left hand, buried deep in the back of my jewelry box bound to be forgotten and stumbled upon years from now, when memories of you will make me smile instead of cry
and there's a box in the corner of the room with ******* letters on the side spelling out your name. inside sits the sweatshirt you gave me years before, headphones and a cd, pictures, tokens of our memories. folded nearly on top is a letter written to you, telling you that i'm still madly in love with you and your forest eyes, telling you that i don't think my heart will ever forget the man who brought it to life. on the backside of that letter is a poem asking why you ever came back if it was her the entire time