Black shirt Black

Five years ago
and in another country
the black long sleeved shirt
became mine
drenched in pink vomit
that took countless washes to rid
the night he read me the letter
I would have kept had it not been lost
I would have remembered had I not been drunk

we never were really together
and we never met again
but I still wear the black shirt to bed
but I still love that man now in my bed
who lets me do what I never did
with the black long sleeved shirt

to become a magician
that could turn all her things into garbage
her earrings into rubbish, her socks into trash, her scents into waste, the bed they shared
all disappear in a black plastic bag
to never be seen again
to never exist again
nor before

but I'll wear the black long sleeved shirt to bed.