Vintage Baseball

Your shirt smells of you and I now. Your musky scent intertwined with my floral-vanilla shades.
I still haven't washed it, even though I probably should. I miss you and I'm never letting you, or this shirt go.
You know all the drama hurts. I don't see how you couldn't, I've spelt it out to you a million and one times. It hurts that you don't care. It hurts so much.
But this is always and forever.
You frustrate me.
I love you.