It lingers in that drawer.

Creeping up on me like an early morning when you just can't sleep.

A little piece of you, fragmented into cheap cotton fabric that I'm sure my tears have stained more than once.

A piece of clothing that is so thin, yet held me together with the strength I miss from your embrace.

It brought me comfort to know I still had a piece of you, even though you're long gone.

I can't do it anymore.

I'm choosing myself.

Your sweater is now in the donate pile.

Maybe it'll give someone the comfort you were so stingy to give to me.