Just when I thought you can no longer affect me, Your red sweater hanging in the wardrobe talked loudly, Of fondness and passion that once kept my soul alive Of rainy days and summer sadness and of plaintive songs of our love. You robbed me of everything that relinquished my soul of constant sorrow. I wonder how you remember me because we can no longer be friends or foes. It's strange to pretend to be strangers for the rest of our days. But your sweater still smells of the coffee I spilled that day, Mixed with that cologne of yours that used to drive me crazy, I bet I can extract them without hurting a thread. I wish we were different people who would cuddle into the sweater, without saving up a look to hurt each other I envy people who still find love, who still get to keep sweaters, without feeling the need to return them. I guess this is what they call an 'ex', And I have passed the test to become one, To think over you often on sober nights, on lonely
Expressions penned with feathery Excalibur!