Wash, Dry, Wear, Repeat

Mag_clothes

Most of my days I enjoy living, I look to the good in why I am here.
Today is not that day. Today I feel helpless and bleak;
Not able to stop death from creeping up on those I love
or those who have already gone.
They are not here so I assume they are nowhere.
So much time I wasted when they were with me, with my pettiness.
My chest explodes over and over
as I realize there might not be  anything more than this.
We are born, we live, we die.
The bile in my throat reminds me how scared I am of not existing,
but even more so how scared I am of being left behind.
It’s why I keep certain people close,
let them take advantage even when they don’t know they do it.
I want to be alone and care for no one,
not fear their demise, not fear being abandoned.
If I am already alone then they cannot leave me,
leave me hanging like this.
Vulnerable and easily forgotten,
until someone feels the need to have me close again.
I wash my skin over and over
as I try to erase the regret that grows there like a fungus.
My attempts show the lines and creases of age,
like starched pants left out to dry in the harsh heat of mid-August.
Never the same as when first purchased.
I may be comfortable to someone
but eventually even the most comfortable
must be tossed aside and replaced.
Wash, dry, wear, repeat
until there is nothing left but the dust of abandoned souls.
I weep with regret,
I cringe to make necessary changes,
I feel sorry for myself and it sickens me.

Written 4/29/2015

Inspiration: Magpie Picture Prompt #252