I remember when I first noticed the boy with the panic shirt,

in the back of the class,

I knew he would be something special.

And I remember as he held my hand,

whispering in my ear,

that I could borrow his shirt for the weekend,

because he knew I liked how it smelled like him.

And I remember how he kissed the top of my head,

whispering in my ear,

that I could keep his panic shirt forever,

because he knew I liked how it smelled like him.

But then I remember the day it stopped smelling like him.

And then I remember the day he stopped smelling like him,

because this person wasn't the same boy with the panic shirt in

the back of the class that I first fell in love with.

So now I have his shirt sitting in my room,

smelling like nothing,

reminding me of what could have been.