Irrelevant. You are.
You know what else is? Your 'scent'.
The cologne you sprayed all over my sweater that you wore.
You loved that sweater. Said it made you "fit in" at school because you looked like one of those kids who could afford nice sweaters.
When you stomped my heart I showed up to get it. I gave your two sweaters back, freshly washed and coated in my perfume. You bought the perfume, so I figured you wouldn't mind.
When I first got my sweater back, I curled up with it. It smelled just like you and I loved it. Now? It's in a pile on my floor waiting to be washed.
It still smells like you, but I don't like that smell anymore. It makes me angry.
Angry because someone else is now enjoying the same scent, later to be broken the same way I am. I'm sure the next person will get over you too, especially if you treat them like you treated me.
My sweater smells like you. But today, I didn't care. Because I've found someone new, it's only been two weeks, but, I'm slowly becoming okay.
So,
Your scent. I've realized now that, it's irrelevant.
YOU ARE READING
Am I okay?
PoetryMy certain "you" is a person. They're gone and I'm slowly learning how to deal with it. This book is completely non fiction, as it's every thought straight from my head.
