This Is Why I Stopped Doing My Own Laundry

Things in life happen to always prove or disprove what was aforementioned
So I wrote that I didn’t love you in my head fifty times
How come when I finally grab the bag of belongings you left on my porch
The one thing that I didn’t want to see
Slips out of a flannel you used to wear to work every other week
Yeah, it’s fucked up the thought
So why couldn’t I stop laughing?
Has my pain been distilled into this?
Sitting in my basement.
Trying to wash your scent off of my clothes.
Laughing at the idea that you fucked somebody else that wasn’t me.
Probably.
But, probably not.