oversized t shirts

spoiler: he hasnt decided to leave yet

I love my brother's oversized shirts.
Well, they're oversized on me, not so much on him.
I started wearing them because of how comfortable they are. I mean, what's not to love.
They conceal my peeping stomach,
my not-so-hourglass figure,
make me appear smaller than I actually am.
It's not just a sense of security, but of content.
There's simply this enveloping nature these colossal clothes provide.
Then there's this smell. I'd never wear my brother's shirt if it were washed.
I need that aromatic, yet acquired attar of his Gucci cologne, excessively caffeinated blends, and built up hours of surgical on-call sweat.
I only really want his scent, not much anyone else's.
But, if I can hold the shirt up real close, I can smell Her.

And I'm reminded of why he hasn't washed his shirt.
She smells saccharin, bubbly, and kind.

She smells like his past, maybe because she is.

But now it's the present.
And I smell what once was.
And I'm reminded of what once was.
And I live in what once was
And I cannot let go
Of what once was.

I want to, though.
He already has.
We pas and say four words to each other. We regurgitate mediocre responses. And then we separate to our rooms.
I silently cry in mine
He checks fantasy football in his.
It's great.

It's the end of the day now
I remove his shirt and lay in my icy sheets.
And suddenly there's not just a whiff of Her.
Her stench pervades the entirety of my nasal cavity.
His shirt smells like the cologne he wore for Her, the coffee they drank, and the time they spent together in the OR.
She smells like his present, maybe because it's all she mentally is.

And now it's the future
And I smell nothing because he left
And I'm out of reminders
And I still cannot let go
Of what once was.