YOUR UNUSED STUFFS
I am not your tattered sweatshirt
that you keep in the back
of your closet,
The one you wear
only when you get high.
Or that old bottle of wine that
you crack open
When there's a leash to cry.
You see,
my shoulders are paved in a way
to rest your head,
my palms are carved in the
monotony of your fingers
For them to fiddle in
But,
Don't come rushing back
to my yard
only when the wine finishes
smothering your soul,
Don't recycle my presence
like the old gift wrappers
To wrap new gifts.
I've said it once,
said that twice,
realise that,
I am not the too small pair
of jeans that you keep around,
in hopes that one day
you'll fit back into them.
or discard it along with
your other unused materials.
Don't make me the mint gum
that you spit into the bin
when the it stops sweetening
Don't push me like your blankets
into the bunk of your bed only to
pull me out when it stars to snow.
I am not your dirty running shoes
that you keep on a shelf in your room,
the one’s that make you sad every time
you look at them because you
did not win that race.
You will wear me with pride,
or not at all.
@mindfreak