things that are still laced with you:
1) my playlists. I have so many songs written in notebooks and saved on my computer that remind me of your brown eyes or your laugh. they all have our songs in them, the ones we shared with each other and the ones we found together. sometimes when I feel empty, i’ll listen to them and let myself cry, just so at least my chest is filled with sadness than nothing at all.
2) my sweaters. every time I slip one over my head I can feel your arms and a whisper as light as air. you always said I looked particularly adorable in those hoodies, the way they were too long for my arms and how they hung loose past my hips. they still smell like you from when it was raining too hard and we’d cuddle to pass the cold. i’m just afraid that my sweaters will always feel like you, and nothing else.
3) my photo gallery. I still have the pictures we took on dates and the selfies we took at parties, still high off of the adrenaline and laughter. they come in groups, taking stabs at my heart as I scroll past them in my photos, I can’t bring myself to delete them, they make me too happy before my ribs start to crack. I wonder if you’ve already deleted them off of your phone.
4) the box in my drawer. we both away went to opposites ends of the country, and we were so in love that we needed a way to hang onto each other. we wrote to each other in notebooks to give at the end of the ten days. we never got around to exchanging them so the wrinkled pages are sitting in an empty chocolate box you got me for Valentine’s Day last year in my desk drawer. The pins and figurines you gave me as presents sit there as well, too painful to look at yet to beautiful to throw away.
— things that are still laced with you