A little worn around the corners, rough around the edges, and in some spots, you’re splitting at the seams, but you seem to hug me in all the right places even though you’re a bit oversized I think it’s kinda stylish. And how could I expect a thrift store find to have a perfect fit? I’m not saying that you’re cheap, but we all feel a little used sometimes.
We’re all searching for love that fits somewhere between a kimono and a straight jacket. Maybe the only the difference between a hug and a strangle is just whose arms are around you.
But you’re loose enough to fit me for fall. You fit me so well that I wish fall were the only season. Because falling for you feels a lot like tripping over myself, but that feels a lot like flirting with gravity, and we both know I like to flirt but I’ll always catch myself right before I hit the ground because this isn’t the first time I’ve fallen and I’ve learned getting up is the hardest part.
Sometimes a good jacket makes the fall hurt a little less but you usually fuck up the jacket too when you hit the ground. I thought the scrapes you came with were kind of endearing but it doesn’t feel good to look at the ones I made. I don’t expect you to protect me but I think your fabric is comforting the way a denim jacket should be. And I’d keep you forever if the weather didn’t change so much in Missouri,
But maybe I’d move states just to have you around every day, or I could just tie you around my waist when it gets a little warm in the summer. I may forget you for a second as I move from place to place, but I’m just scatterbrained and you should know that I’m sorry. And I’ll always come back for you.
Because coming home and realizing you’re not there feels like not coming home at all. It feels like tonguing your gums in that empty space after losing a tooth. It feels like checking for your phone when you left it at home. It feels like stepping out in the cold without your jacket.
How can something as simple as a jacket turn into a phantom limb? I don’t really know, but you’ve found a way to make yourself irreplaceable and I can only be so mad because I really like having a favorite jacket.
I just hope you hold up through the shitty weather and your weak spots don’t get worse any faster than mine do because I think I’m a jacket too sometimes, and maybe you need a hug but I’m still learning not to strangle.
I’m trying to be flexible, but my fabric’s not so great and my thoughts get warped under intense heat. Some moths chewed a few holes in me when I was lonely, but I’m pretty great at being there when you need a little extra warmth.
Jackets like us might float from place to place looking for the right home, but I just keep praying that we end up on the same rack in the thrift store and maybe our hangers get tangled so the side of my hanger slips under your shoulder and we can just rest like that for a while. Because I get tired, sometimes, of keeping other people warm.