The Clothes They Left Behind

By Akanksha Patil

1. The Sweater

I keep his sweater, frayed and old,

A warm embrace on nights so cold.

He held me close, I held him tight,

But love unraveled with morning light.

I wear it now, a phantom’s hug—

Remnants of warmth I once called love.

Threads unravel, soft and thin,

Each stitch a scar beneath my skin.

2. The Scarf

A scarf lies wrapped around my heart,

From him who swore we’d never part.

It carries faint notes of his scent,

A winter’s gift, a love long spent.

Around my neck, it still clings tight,

A whisper of him on lonely nights.

I feel his secrets brush my face,

Each word a wound I can’t erase.

3. The Shoes

I keep the shoes he left behind,

Each step an echo, lost in time.

We walked together, side by side,

Until he strayed, nowhere to hide.

I wear them still on roads alone,

Through silent streets and cobbled stone.

Each scuff a bruise, each heel a tear,

They’re worn with weight he left to bear.

4. The Dress

In a closet, I keep the dress,

White and laced in promises.

For him, I wore it, felt so free—

A fleeting dream of “you and me.”

Now tattered seams, now faded thread,

Remind me of the words he said.

I hold it close, a memory torn,

A wishful love I’ll always mourn.

5. The Coat

He left his coat, broad and strong,

He wore it like he could do no wrong.

It felt like armor, safe and sure,

Until he left, a love impure.

I wrap it tight, it holds me bound,

Yet feels so heavy, weighs me down.

Each button a scar, each thread a sigh,

A piece of him that won’t say goodbye.

Epilogue

I keep these clothes like memories frayed,

In closets dark, where shadows fade.

They line the shelves, in silent rows,

Each holds a hurt that no one knows.

I wear them still, they haunt my skin—

The remnants of the loves I let in.

And though they left, they linger here,

These ghosts in fabric, laced with fear.

By Akanksha Patil