Friday, July 9, 2010

Leather Jacket

I'm feeling guilty for leaving you curled on the ground.
I don't have the patience to pick you up and hang you in the wardrobe, like you deserve.
Not only that, I should have a wardrobe for you alone, because you're precious.
Instead, you lie on the ground with ordinary clothes and underwear.

Maybe it's because unconsciously i believe that you are just like the rest.
But it cannot be, I've worn you most than any other. You have to be special.
Is it so, that the summer is to blame? Is it why i feel naked and restrained?
And when it's time, will i remember to treat you well again?

Your pockets are torn, yet i have not patched them throughout the winter. And it was cold.
Yet, in a way i prefer them that way; imperfect and warm.
The summer has been cold without your warmth.
Still, i threw you on the ground, like the rest, you don't protest.

Chatter with the others just a little longer. The winter's around the corner.

1 comment:

  1. Killer. I love the logical appeal for acceptance of subtle greatness ("But it cannot be, I've worn you most than any other. You have to be special.")

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