TheFeatheredSleep – So much tied up in clothes
The memory of clothes
Somewhere in a filing room with corrugated cardboard and dried blood
Her skirt of 06 is folded by a uniformed man
Who isn’t used to folding women’s clothes.
She’ll not be wearing it again
It’s evidence of a crime committed
Of a bad start and a hundred reasons why
Gut instinct should be heeded
Something she didn’t know back then
Packing and unpacking
The acutrements of a life
Worn a little faded and down at the sole.
Some days she’d sleep
In your oversized rock concert T-shirt
Smelling the distant indifference of your brand of love
Others, it’d be the outline of a coat hung in hallway
Reminding her of nightmares she thought left behind.
Wherever you go there you are
The psychology majors chimed in falcetto chorus
And they didn’t know she was running because she was so versed at standing in place
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