And even though
I wrap myself up in the scent you left behind,
intertwined beneath your bed sheets
and even though you aren’t here anymore
the smell of you lingers so pleasantly
through my entire being.
And even though it hurts so much
being without you, I can’t stand
the thought of losing
the only thing you left behind,
so I stay there,
wrapped up in your dirty laundry.
And I miss the way we used to be,
a tangle of fingers, and thumbs,
and sloppy kisses, and naked bodies.
Like how you used to get your hands
caught in my hair in the frantic manor
in which we made love.
When things turned sour,
I thought I’d never again
see the glorious sunshine,
even as it poured through my open window.
I cried for you every single night for a year.
I could have picked anyone and I’d still choose you.
You are the reason I breathe.
I lay in your musk, sweat, aura and
clutch at the memory of what used to be,
of you and of me.
I still roll around between your silky sheets
and wait for your return,
even if I’m waiting years.
And even though things may hurt,
I still leave a little something,
for underneath your tree.
