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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.

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