What Remians

I tucked your old clothes into a box.

I guess it made me feel like you still had a drawer.

Occasionally, I lift the lid to peek in.

I hug your clothes.

The stale stench of my embrace

reminds me of vacancy.

Clothing no longer holding your scent.

No sweet perfume,

no laundry detergent,

no dryer sheets,

nothing hugging me back.

A vague memory.

An empty shell of style that once was,

a glimpse of your personality.

A reminder that, like you,

they too live in a box,

buried beneath more

boxed memories.

Written by: Cara Eickhoff