with nothin but your tshirt on

i lay here in bed
fantasies, dreams, memories
all spin through my mind
as i think about you
as i think about us

with nothin but your tshirt on

i remember the day i asked you for this shirt
i humbly requested only a ratty, tattered old thing you never wear
but you refused
saying i deserved more
such a good boyfriend (as you call yourself; you are that and so much more)
all i wanted was a small remnant
a shred of reality
a memory to hold
of you
before you left

with nothin but your tshirt on

i lie here in bed
and i swear i can feel your arms wrapped tightly around me
and it sends shivers up my spine
but i admit
as much as i love the feeling
i try not to wear it as much as possible
as much as it kills me
but i don’t want to taint it with my own smells
because that’s part of the memory
your smell that faintly lingers
deep within the smallest seams and clinging to the thinest threads
embedded in every fiber
it sends me straight back to you
and i don’t have to imagine that you’re there beside me
because you are
and i try to avoid the washing machine
it’s just another contaminant
but eventually it must be washed
and i suppose eventually your smell will linger it’s last few moments
and then float away
a figment of my imagination
but i won’t forget it

with nothin but your tshirt on

i lay here in bed
so i bury my face
deep into the folds of the fabric
and inhale one last breath of your smell
knowing that if that breath was my last in my lifetime
it would contain your memory
my mouth wanders
searching for yours
my hands cling to the shirt
wishing for yours
and i lay here in bed
searching for you
held together by the woven fabric of your tshirt
because it’s the only material proof
the only material memory
proving to me
that you
that our love
wasn’t just
a dream too good to come true

with nothin but your tshirt on

i love you