as thunder rumbles through
the city
I cling to any piece of you
I have left.
the bustling crowds make
their way down the sidewalk
as I'm lost in a daze.
how can such a busy city
feel so far away?
I'm in the heart of it,
yet nowhere all at once.
I'm unaware of my surroundings,
only focusing on trying to remember.
trying to remember your laugh,
your scent,
your hugs.
the only pieces of memories
I have left of you are photographs
and sweaters.
the sweater I'm wearing is yours,
but the rain from the storm will just
was away the only thing keeping
you alive to me.
when I finally make it home
tonight, your sweater won't smell
like you, instead it'll just smell damp.
and tomorrow my laundry
detergent will take over,
filling every thread of you.
and the only thing left
in my hands will be photographs,
ones that will fade with time.
and suddenly, I'll have to think
really hard to remember what it was
like before the rain washed you away.
