Borrowed Sweaters and Victorian Laces

A collection of sonnets based on object symbolism and it's relation to the other.


I lay here silently waiting
for the  day of your return.
I clutch close a shirt of yours
the one thing I have to call your own.
I tick off each hour in my mind.
I stroke off the days every morning.
All I wish is for you to come home
my only desire...
I hug the tattered rag close
and inhale what used to be like you
but the scent only berely remains...
I weep myself to sleep
clutching this rag
this replacement that once was you.

The End

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