Anicca

A torn jacket belongs to someone else

Smells like old spice and sweat

Giving me all the warmth needed to survive this lonely, cold night

While I dream of the dream.

An overused t-shirt, 

So big, it could fit both of us…scent of tears and ocean

Hugged me in those nights

You were too busy to look at the starts

A second-hand copy of my favorite book

With blemish yellow pages and taste of old monk

Provided me with the comfort, I was looking in you

While I sleep, in the lap of clouds