The Sweater

It's ninety degrees,

and I'm wearing a sweater

because my body's getting cold-

as if everything is slowing down,

and I am growing weaker

by the second.

I am tired; let me rest

and recollect my thoughts

as I wrap my arms around me,

being the source of my affection,

love, and protection.

The sweater is white,

knitted, and has holes

to keep me breathing.

 My arms are open wide,

but there's pain where there

should be someone that cares.

I am afraid; let me go,

for I can't keep on waiting.

They'll come for me,

and want the things that I can't give them,

because I haven't got them.

-LJ

5 August 2016