I used to keep the tshirt that you gave me in my bed
And the glow-in-the-dark letters across its chest read:
"Here is a hello, shining green up at your ceiling,
Sweetie, you're the only one who knows exactly what I'm feeling
And you're my best friend and you're my dearest lover
And in 10 or 15 years you would've been a great mother.
But this tshirt's as full of holes as it was with his promises,
And it's looking so much duller than when you first got it.
The boy who gave it to you is gone and you're left with worn-out cotton
So now this tshirt's all wadded up in your closet"
Maybe you'll take it out sometimes and try it on for size,
And maybe you'll grow out of it or maybe it fits fine,
But the words across the chest read the wrong things for this time,
Because the glowing letters say hello just when you say goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Green Journal
PuisiI got a new notebook and a new reason to write and that's enough of an excuse for a new collection, right?