How can I not remember you?
When I think about how your touch felt, I am clueless.
Wondering if it ever gave butterflies to my flowers,
or was it just the feeling of possession.
I wear your sweatshirt now, I feel your smell has gone,
owning it doesn’t feel anything to do with you.
It does keep me warm in the cold,
I wish I could have worn it in places I went with you.
Cried, smashed, smiled showed nothing
but the satisfaction of having you.
Walked away happily, yet my poetry speaks about you.