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Old Sweaters

So many of my thoughts

are familiar and slightly musty

– they smell like me, and show small rips

and stains

and signs of overuse.

It’s hard to let them go –

comforting warmth in the dark,

oversized protection to cover up my flaws,

gifts from those who love me.

And yet –

when I life them up to check out

belly underneath,

contours of who I am today

peek out

in vibrant shades of new,

and silky rivulets of exposure.

When will I have courage for new raiment?

Published inPoems