Your Love

Your love has fallen off me

like a frayed old tattered cloak,

I had been wearing this garment of darkness

for quite a while –

people offered to help me

out of it, take this

heavy burden off my shoulders,

yet I declined.

I wanted to wear it out

this piece of unfashionable rag,

dragged it around til it was worn and torn

from quite a lot of use.

People watched me wander

shaking their heads, they'd wonder

why is she still wearing this?

Yet I had a plan.

I knew a time would come

when it would wear thin,

Gradually it lost its weight, its hold

on me over time...

People saw less and less of it

the more I showed it off,

wondering if it was still the same.

I just smiled knowingly, and shrugged.

And then one day

it was suddenly gone,

had vanished from

my shoulders and life.

People had long forgotten

that I used to wear

this garb of misguided affection -

what was different now, even I didn't miss it.

Your love has fallen off me

like a frayed old tattered cloak,

that no longer served

a purpose and turned to dust.

People see me anew,

radiant, shining, transformed, and

can't put their finger on the change in me.

Yet I am different now, reborn.

Your love has disintegrated around me

like a motheaten grey old rag,

like I knew it would, in time.

My soul needed the process of decay,

slow and steady, in order to outgrow it.