P O E T R Y // o.r

quarante-et-un // cardigan

this oversized cardigan that we used to love,
we used to cuddle in,
still possesses your fragrance
and i refuse to wash it since
i'm petrified that, if i do,
i will lose the only item, i have left,
that is linked to you.

this oversized cardigan that we used to cherish,
we used to use as a blanket,
is now tatty and uncomfortable,
since you left,
and it is full of large holes,
that are too immense to even attempt to mend,
just like my heart is
left with a permanent, aching cavity,
as you were my true love
who left sheer agony behind.

a vast amount of my heart was tattooed
with your name on
and now you are gone,
forever departed,
never to return,
and the last action you performed was
when you stole the section of my beating middle that
had your name, naïvely written in cursive, on.
this was just to spite me, of course,
since you knew that, by stealing the only attribute
i had of you left,
the only trait that really mattered to me,
you would destroy me entirely.

yet you still forgot about taking
this fucking oversized cardigan that we used to be fond of,
we used to sleep with,
as a souvenir of our past affair
so, who's the fool now?
oh yes, of course,
still me,
since i am infinitely the laughing stock in your eyes;
you made that rather clear when we were together
during the rancorous conclusion of our love.

i have to admit that i completely agree with you, however,
seeing as i am the ridiculous 0.5 of the once wonderful 1 who still enters
the dream world, throughout slumber, and imagines
you and everything you were,
with this bloody oversized cardigan that we used to adore,
we used to affectionally share kisses behind,
that i should detest but simply cannot
since it's all i own of your prepossessing self.

you abandoned me and influenced me to depend on
this oversized cardigan that we used to treasure,
we used to stupidly try and wear together,
since the gaps in the scratchy fabric
accommodate individual memories of ours
that fuel my vivid dreams of you,
when the knitted jacket is near to me,
and darling,
that is solely all i have to show for myself;
that is the single object that i can call my own,
for you left me with nothing but painfully emotive
memories,
that will provoke nothing but bitter tears
to attach to this oversized cardigan that is
more of a burden, than a sweet reminder,
now that i think about it.