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I've washed this garment one thousand times!
Still, your scent is left behind.
I'll wash it again, and again once more.
All this washing has become quite a chore!
Maybe, if I dry it on the highest heat,
Removing your aroma will not be my defeat!
It's been washed and dried,
Using Era and Tide.
The "ARM" has faded and "Y" nearly gone
Still, your handsome scent lingers on...
One more rinse and one more spin.
Then I'll give up and not try again!
Straight from the dryer, I hold it near my breasts.
Remembering your arms embracing me, close, to your warm strong chest.
I think 'One more time just won't hurt.'
So I slip, once again, into your aging P. T. shirt.
I'll wear it while I sleep,
Dreaming it's more than your memory I can keep.
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