Don't Fight it, Write it. That's what my therapist says. She's doesn't actually say that, but she does say write it out. This is an older poem that is necessary to put one I just wrote this morning in context. For me, at least. Because mostly this is just healing work for me.
The Suit
I am facing the growing possibility
That I will never own a suit in this lifetime
That if I do own a suit it will not
Be tailored to my proportions
But will have been made to fit another man
An important man long gone
I will wear your suit proudly
And I promise to never have it altered
To fit my dimensions
I will look in the pocket to see
If you have left me any instructions.
Wanting To Be Seen
Seven hunded dollars later
I'm altogether,
Like I never was before,
Even learned to fold
The pocket square
I'd hand her,
A product for one
Set of eyes
That may never fall
On me again.
I've bet on myself,
And lost,
Because I was already
Riding the sure thing.
The Suit
I am facing the growing possibility
That I will never own a suit in this lifetime
That if I do own a suit it will not
Be tailored to my proportions
But will have been made to fit another man
An important man long gone
I will wear your suit proudly
And I promise to never have it altered
To fit my dimensions
I will look in the pocket to see
If you have left me any instructions.
Wanting To Be Seen
Seven hunded dollars later
I'm altogether,
Like I never was before,
Even learned to fold
The pocket square
I'd hand her,
A product for one
Set of eyes
That may never fall
On me again.
I've bet on myself,
And lost,
Because I was already
Riding the sure thing.
This post first appeared on Zombie Logic From Thomas L. Vaultonburg, Outsider, please read the originial post: here
