Brown Cardigan

I borrowed the cardigan

on a lonely winter's evening.

I wrapped it around my soul,

soothing the burns down there.

The feline gestures of the heart

had killed the child inside.

I wrapped the cardigan around my lonely soul.

I choked myself on the woollen love and touched it with my raw, red fingertips.

I let the warm love seep in - the brown cardigan was yours.

The Swiss clock rambled on, the brown coffee - no milk - spilled over.

The kettle sat there in the dark silence - unattended to.

I clutched on to your brown cardigan.

I clutched on to the winter's evening.

I clutched on to the warm memories.

I let the love slip between my fingers.

I wrapped your brown cardigan around my wilted soul.

I closed my eyes and tasted pain- it was sweet,

almost as sweet as revenge.

I buried myself in the brown embers, hoping to disappear

I still have your brown cardigan - folded neatly, behind the shelf. I stored your letters and the age old ink, right there.

.  .  .

"Keep it", he smiled. 

"How can I? It's so pretty!".

His brown eyes hid nothing. 

"It's just a brown cardigan. It's yours now".

-Artemis