The Wardrobe

There are feelings that hang on me
Like hand me down clothing
Out of date and frankly out of style
With zippers and buttons I can’t quite easily manage
So that I struggle to maneuver my way out of the frayed felts and fabrics
They fill my drawers
My closets
My shelves
And I’ve nothing else really to wear
When it grows cooler I bundle them up
Layers upon layers
To fend against the bite of the frost in the air
Id catch a cold without them
But I sweat until I’m melting within them
Who better to know that I am damned if I do
Yet damned if I don’t
I imagine that I could just waltz into the stores
Peruse the racks
And purchase new items
But I’m never really sure where to start
What size and which prints
The classic colors or the new clash
When all I’m accustomed to is hand me downs
Whether too big or small
Stained and scratchy
I’ve always worn them
Really, which would be the lesser of two evils:
To accept them
Or walk about bare


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