He'd probably think she was psychotic if he knew what she still had in her closet.
She only wore in when she was feeling down, a little bit lonely. Slips it over her shoulders, makes her feel a little bit closer to him.
Black in color. A red and white fan decorated the back. The zipper is broken, and there are cigarette burns. The strings are frayer from where she's been chewing on them. Even though it's been a few months, the faint smell of his cologne is still there.
She can't keep his love, she can't keep his kiss. She gave him everything she's got, and all she has is his hoodie. Something she'll never get over.
When he wore it, she use to stand in front of him and put her hands in the pockets. He'd kiss her on the forehead.
She still wears his hoodie, even though it hurts.