Poetry / The Reek of Loneliness

I begin to reek of loneliness
when glancing at my reflection in the bathroom mirror
after arriving home with a guy’s sweatshirt, unlikely to be returned,

and place a coy grin, admiring more than comfort of fabric,
more so, for the way I can wrap myself in something other than
my own belongings, however, he does not belong to me,

nor do I belong to him, I’m just a fickle being
left cuffing the sweatshirt sleeves with my fingers to grasp
last night’s memories of our foolish affection.

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