Your socks were rolled up and left under the bed. It’s been months but it still gave me pause, and I held them in my hands as though I had never seen them before. Except I had.
I might’ve been called mad if someone had seen me staring at a balled up pair of socks but it was all I could do. Suddenly waves of you, and us, washed over me and something got caught in my throat. I struggle to call that a name I no longer use for you.
I didn’t know if I should bury them like I did us. Or maybe set them on fire. Or maybe even keep them.
I put them back and pretended like I hadn’t found them after so long.
Now I’m stuck trying to forget you again.