Wearing you is hard
You are in every corner of every room. Just when I think I have hidden everything in your drawer to keep it from my eyes I see more. That book I borrowed, the gown I bought you, your brush.
You surround me. You are everywhere. I wear you like an exoskeleton. A structure which used to push me forward, added power to my step, lifted my head. But now which holds me back, covers my eyes and ears, and slows my breath.
Wearing you is hard.
You were my tailored suit. I was so proud to have you on my arm. You were my warm winter coat. You kept me from the cold. You were my armour. You protected me from harm. Now I wear you as a cold wind. As a jacket of pins. As blinkers, only allowing me to look backwards.
Wearing you is hard.
Our days together were my calendar. Our plans were my direction. Our messages were my comfort. You were my focus. You were my dreams. You were everything. Wearing you was everything I ever wanted. Now it wears me out.
But, I’m not ready to stop wearing you yet.