Your Shirt

I still sleep with your shirt, but I don’t know why.

You’ve made it clear the time isn’t right,

And it may never be again.

But is that a lack of love,

Or just fear clouding your insight?

Is it fear that drives the choices you make,

The distance you put between us,

The warmth you let fade?

I still sleep with your shirt because in my heart,

You were the last one.

It’s hard to process how love feels so fleeting

Every other day, I see glimpses of it.

There’s more to love than what you lack,

But when I see you pull away,

I wonder are you scared of how real this feels?

You say I’m “too much,”

But I think that’s fear speaking for you.

When we made love,

Every touch, every whisper

Felt deeper than the words you use to push me away.

The narrative is backwards,

And I’d love to know why.

Where’s your head at?

When we’re together, love is alive,

But when we’re apart,

You’re as distant as before.

Is this a battle with yourself?

Or is this self-sabotage in its cruelest form?

Are we so dangerous to each other

That we can’t see the fire we ignite

When our bodies intertwine?

What is it that you fear, love?

What is it that feels too much to bear?

I sleep with your shirt

Because I see the battle on your face,

The war raging inside your mind.

I hear the words you don’t speak,

And even in all of that silence,

You remain so distant from me.