It's pathetic
How that feeling creeps back into my heart when I look in my rear view mirror to see his dress shirt lying comfortably in my backseat.
I haven't found the courage to move it or even touch it yet, for he would be the only texture that met my desperate hands.
It hasn't changed since he asked me to keep it in my car that day, which in turn gives me the insane notion that the two of us haven't changed;
That this is just a horrible dream and tonight I'll greet him on the sidewalk then watch him drive away at 7:00am just like I was previously accustomed to.
Silly
How the littlest things can affect a person to such an extent
Though blinded by tears
I can still see that shirt on him, and visualize it shaping the arms that I sunk too deeply into
After secretly falling head over heels at sunset...
Foolish