Fabric Misery

Maybe it would be better

if I imagined happiness

in objects I have owned for years

instead of searching for it

as if it were buried treasure

or debating whether it is worth

the investment as if I hold shares

or twiddling my thumbs

hoping the cashier won’t id me

as if it can be bought

or clawing at the lid of Pandora’s

jar but it is the opposite.

 

I could see happiness

in my washing machine faded jeans

I refuse to throw away

because although they’re grey

they still fit like a glove.

Or the hot water bottle

I’ve had since uni

and cradle as if it’s a baby.

Or the coat with stuffing

spilling from a split

in the armpit.

Or the boots I’ve well worn

love into the heels

so they’ve grown holes.

Or the cheap necklaces

I horde like gold

and wear in the bath

when I shouldn’t.

Or the slow cooker

my nanny found for free

and gifted to me

and I’m pretty sure

it is older than me.

Or the books, books

and journals

read and unread

which fill every shelf

and drawer.

 

These are the things

which make me happy

bring me a contentment

only I understand

because they are just things

things which if you took away

I’d miss like summer rain

and finally understand

how it really feels

to be in pain

 

instead of this

psychosomatic

broken record runaway train

of fabric misery

and not this again.

 


 

© Kristiana Reed 2019

15 thoughts on “Fabric Misery

  1. poetryfromtheinkwell says:

    It makes perfect sense that we find happiness in the things we’ve shared aspects of our lives with. There is a deep comfort found in these words. Excellent!

    Liked by 1 person

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