Looking for Something to Keep Me Warm ‘Cause This T-Shirt Will Never Do


I don’t remember you coming in

But I found your toothbrush in my bathroom

Blue stripes on its handle, spring

wrapping around my slender frame, holding me

squeezing so tightly I popped and out flew your name

but you aren’t here

in my bedroom

your white t-shirt remains

sprawled on the floor

remnants of your scent lifting

lingering

reminding me that I want nothing more than to be

Immersed

Deep

Intense

Burning with thoughts and ideas

…I’d swear you left your Fruit of the Looms here on purpose

and my glitter and glow from the night before is dusted on pillow cases

door knobs

nude walls

No longer

on my arms

on my ankles

on my eyelids

revealing the bare essence of me

And I bet you wear it on the bottoms of your feet traipsing through the city

cutting corners, catching specks of that golden glory glistening, from the side of your carnivorous eye while…I look at your t-shirt

White as the first winter

Your milky skin pressed against mine

The teeth that left trails on the slopes, peaks, and valleys that make you

White like the bones I’ll become if I stand here much longer, starving for clues

So I part my lips to say “I am done”

…Where did I put my tongue? In the back pocket of your blue jeans, along with the moans that escaped you from the previous night

And where did I place my eyes, stashed inside your black Ralph Lauren blazer

But all you do is dig deep into those pockets

real deep

Your fingers scratching corners, keeping warm as I shiver

…looking at your white t-shirt

looking for something to keep me warm

‘cause this t-shirt will never do

And while you use me

to cushion your leather shoes

like I have a Dr. Scholls imprint carved onto my chest

I waste away

I think of you

Thinking of me?

Creeping with he?

I won’t wait to see

So if you would be so kind

as to bring me back the pieces of me you took

without my permission

I’d really appreciate it

That way

You can pick up your underwear, your toothbrush,

that damn shirt and your unspoken words

they’ll be waiting for you in the trash can

the black one, closest to the curb


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