Delicate seams hung, lonesome, fragile, frayed. It appeared the stitches that had once woven a warmth, so comforting, had now turned cold. All the memories held captive by the simple bounds of cotton, were now being released, alongside the grief within me.
I had worn you with pride. I had shown you the world. I gave a part of me to you. This little movie of ours- it’s denouement- was agonising...