01:19 - a Stitch In Time
Unpacking means to put away, I’m closing doors: forgetting,
And so that case expires, sits, retires on the floor.
A forgotten mess of fabrics lies beneath the surface letting
A flood of hand-spun memories drag me, drown me all the more.
Although I only see you now through misted screens and pictures,
A thousand crystal remnants tumble out when my eyes close.
A week long thread of subtleties lies woven in the mixture,
A second’s worth of secrecy lies dormant on my clothes.
Cotton, denim, zips and bows remember where your hands were placed,
A shadow which I cannot bring myself to wash away.
Unravelling doesn’t bother me; I know your stitch can’t be erased,
And so, my case remains untouched, as always, just for one more day.
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