I refuse to wash this shirt
because I'm convinced
that somehow
someway
it still smells like you.
The bottle of perfume I wore
on our first "date"
shattered and I should've taken
that as a sign
but I didn't.
My eyes burn with sleep
deprivation but
the fear of seeing you again
keeps me awake and alone
in my bed.
Even the pure white snow
that falls so gracefully is
tarnished by your memory
and daydreams of fireplaces
and the good life.
