I’ve worn you, my beloved cloak of grief, for so long, a companion.
Dark and musky I carried you with me, until you felt like skin, my skin.
My mind grew attached to you, the thought of letting go a betrayal.
Precious fabric, woven with cords drawn from deep within me.
Painted on your sleeves, a colourful remembrance of my tortured past.
I thought I swore an oath to you, by faithful sacrifices of bountiful tears.
I sensed the slightest change, a bloom, a message of the seasons.
The smallest ray of sunshine on that gray and gloomy rainy day.
Becoming aware of your heaviness, weighing me down, uncomfortably.
I touched your ivory buttons, feeling it between my cold fingers.
I felt the delicate images, lovingly carved on them, irrelevant now.
I heard your cries, as I unbuttoned, first one then another, slowly.
There was a painful tearing of flesh as…
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