I still have your t-shirt.
It’s red, like our passion
Was
Like my anger is.
Like our sweating, breathing,
My moans.
I still have your t-shirt.
I don’t know why.
I touch it’s fibres
And feel your coarse skin
At 3 am when the world
Was too much
And I needed to feel
The heat of you.
Bending my shape
To fit yours,
Your hand
Protecting me.
You don’t know
How much it burned.
I still have your t-shirt.
It reminds me
To forget.
Lily Portman 