Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Clothes

They cling to you
like a desperate lover
their soft touch caresses your skin.

Wrapped up in your woollen fleece
safe from the metallic world
cotton carves your cries
as silk sways in your dreams.

The hidden history
of your body
underneath the thick coat
is a knitted nightmare.

A baby’s shriek
is silenced by linen
and the dead’s last touch
is their favourite outfit.

We used to run free
naked and wild
now clothes have claimed us
in their powerful embrace.

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