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The Black Striped Shirt
The black striped shirt,
Stayed in the front of my closet,
For a year before I wore it,
On the day you said goodbye.
The black striped shirt,
Stayed in the back of my closet,
For a year before I wore it again today,
On the day I realized that you were not coming back.
The black striped shirt,
Still had the lingering scent,
Of detergent, new cloth and your cologne,
Taking a whiff of it,
Reminded me of the moments,
Your hands laced around my body,
Holding it so close,
That even a mili meter apart would cause apocalypse.
The black striped shirt,
Won’t have your cologne anymore,
But the memories of your hands around it,
Will last on the fabric forever.
