The Girl In My Wardrobe

I crack my knuckles

As I stare out of a window

Thick with three years

Grime and plant matter

And I try not to think

About what I’m losing

(Focus on the gain)

 

But

There’s a girl in my

Wardrobe, the ghost

Of what I was

 

She’s hiding amongst

The abandoned

Coat hangers and shoe boxes

And she’s crying

Because that’s what she does

(Everything I wish she wouldn’t)

 

I say goodbye

Again and again

Sometimes with tears

Sometimes without

Because I manage to

Believe it’s not happening

(The inevitable)

But when it comes to

The End

I break down like

I’m weaker than I look

(And I cry all over you)

 

‘You don’t need to see

*friends* to know they’re there...’

 

There’s a girl

In my wardrobe

And she’s fading as I empty it

Because I’m no good

                At holding onto

The past, and without

My clothes, it’s just

A wardrobe

 

And wardrobes in general

Are without ghosts

(Girls who can’t let go)