She wears baggy t-shirts and too big glasses,
And a beanie which use to be his.
Maroon fingerless gloves are tucked away,
In a bedside table,
Because whenever she touches them,
Memories explode like firecrackers,
Underneath her closed lids,
And she is reminded of the times,
When he held her hand,
And told her everything would be ok.
One of his thick winter sweaters,
Still hangs in her closet,
And a pair of his green socks found their way,
Into her drawer somehow.
They were a winter lovestory,
With cozy memories,
All but forgotten by others,
But froze inside her brain,
Like an enternal winter.