Your words clung to my skin like ink

Your words clung to my skin like ink smudging a clean page and I scrubbed my skin for five days straight but the scent of your clothes remained wherever I went.

Your words echoed round my brain and all I could think about was the way you left and how you weren’t really leaving at all because how can something leave that was never really there?

Your words found me in stale coffee and morning breath and I ripped the t-shirt you gave me on our first date but still I slept with the shredded pieces under my pillow.

 

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