I don’t miss you like I thought I did (I’m) (lying)

Something about keeping a sweater I outgrew hoping one day I’d fit into it again and something about it collecting dust and slowly absorbing the stench of plastic after being shoved away into the attic that’s too hot to sit in so I don’t go up there because the heat is suffocating but I think of my sweater with the elbow patches and small hole in the pocket and I keep telling myself it’ll be mine once more and something about it leading back to you