I'm wearing his sweater.

he gave it to me

but he's not here

he's gone.

no trace of him to be found

and I'm sitting alone

with nothing to give

with nothing to offer

to him. he was going

to teach me how to share

to be open and

share myself

but I'm not the selfless

type. I live alone

in my bedroom

in my head and to share a minute

a phonecall

a conversation

is to ask too much of me.

To spare love

beyond the love I have for my mind

and self is to ask too much

of me. So here

I am

alone once again

with nothing to offer

but this pitiful poem.