Clothes (Funny How Things Work Like That)

I have a habit of stealing the clothes of

People who I love with every bit of my fragmented soul
I have some shirts from the first girl I ever loved
Before I knew there were orientations
Other than straight or gay
And I was terrified – I didn’t want to be one of those freaks
Who got beat up in the girls locker room
She was the first person I made a home out of – I felt less alone
I was being choked by the firm hands of an unseen force that only I could feel
She told me to be unafraid
For if I died I’d be at peace but if I survived I’d be damn proud
She was the first person I willingly showed my scars to
She’s now living in Missouri
She likes pot a bit too much nowadays
Recently she deleted me off Facebook
I haven’t heard from her since Sophomore year
Funny how things work like that
 
In my possession I have the tattered remains of a sweatshirt from the first boy I poured the tiny amount of happiness I had into
The invisible force that began plaguing me years earlier also grabbed hold of him
I didn’t want him to be like me
He deserved the sunshine of the Sahara while I deserved the torrential downpours of the rainy season in the Himalayas
Self hatred’s burning fury destroyed him
I loved him so ferociously
And I still wasn’t enough
Funny how things work like that
 
I now stand here
Marks lingering reminding me of how heartbreaking fatal sadness is
And faulty lungs reminding me that heartache is not only felt in my head
But it has now wormed its way into my chest
I miss them so damn much
Like an abandoned mill town
I have now become a wasteland
The only proof that I have loved
Are the clothes I wear so much
People think they’re mine
Funny how things work like that
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