You sent this to me at 4am on the night we broke up
With a painful smile I replied- “I still have your blue shirt”
And then I waited.
I waited for you to come knocking at my door
For your blue checkered shirt, but you mever turned up.
Maybe it was too uncomfortable outside
Maybe it got cold
Or started raining, dutch weather is weird
Maybe you no longer like the colour blue
Or you gained weight
Maybe you no longer cared
Maybe the number of hours you could share with me were actually over
Or you just had had enough
Maybe.
So I iron the shirt
Put some of my perfume on the collars
And hang it in the back of my cupboard
With that bizzare silk dress you got me for our anniversary
And that jacket you absolutely hated on me
I understand you had to walk away
I understand you couldn’t linger any longer
I understand our time was up
I understand.
“Do you remember my old Outlook password?”
Eleven months and twenty two days later
I see your name on my phone
And wince.
Why is she texting me right now? After all this time?
After the radio silence? After all the ignored birthday and diwali and new year wishes?
I was so annoyed almost aggravated
You see I had put all my anger and disappointment
In the back of my cupboard with that shirt of yours
The way you weren’t ready to come back for the shirt
I wasn’t ready to spend any more hours thinking about us
But the thing is, I do.
I do remember your password
And your mother’s maiden name
And your niece’s birthday.
I take out your blue checkered shirt
Take a piece of paper and write down your password
Put some of my perfume on it
And drop off the bag at your building gate on my way to work
“I guess I am no longer welcomed to come get my scarf”
I reply back-