Published June 28, 2005
You left your jacket,
Behind the leather armchair.
Soft and black, worn with time.
I wear it around the house,
Burying my face in the collar
Pretending you’re wrapped around me.
Your smell marks it,
Makes it your own.
Metal, lemon, smoke.
You’ll ask for the jacket back
And I’ll lie and say I can’t find it.
I don’t want to give away
The only piece I’ve ever had of you.
One day the smell of you will fade from it
Making it an anonymous jacket,
Anyone’s jacket.
My scent will replace yours:
Vanilla, mint, shampoo.
I won’t feel you with me
Any more.
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141,408 Literary Works • 674,390 Reviews
Good. The jacket thing is kind of overdone, but I like how you portrayed it here.
Nice little bar things, Inquisitor.
The poem is really good, but somehow it feels unfinished. I honestly don't know why or how to fix it, but that's just my impression. Good job. :thumb:
We are sorry. Inquisitor, Zentillius, and Meshalidar have been suspended due to mendacious and pathetic behavior. Please excuse him.