The Jacket

It had been two years
and three days
since the last time
I wore your jacket

as I struggled
to pull up the zipper
I realised it wasn't a
refuge to my body
anymore

your smell
was nowhere to be found
or perhaps that's not
what I was looking for
at all

I sought warmth

amidst the coldness
of the torn photograph
of you and me
I found in its shallow pocket

you were just like that photograph

kept in pockets
(that no one liked to explore)
and long forgotten

I sought warmth
the kind that made you feel at home

I sought warmth
that even your jacket
failed to provide

Author's Note

I hope you all are doing good :)

Reviews

[Wild Rose]

Things you find in the pockets of old jackets
Bits of string, a tram ticket (where were we going)

But never the smell of the person who wore it
I know people who carried a pair of their wife/ girlfriends knickers
But the scent faded over time

They still clung to their comfort rags though
That's all the were comfort rags No scent; just bit of cloth - rags

[Zoya]

I love the word 'comfort rags'. It's true, the scent fades away. Sometimes, I find it silly how we try to capture or contain a person's essence in an object as ordinary and replaceable as a jacket itself. But I'm sure we've all done it at some point in life or another. Thank you for the read and review, wild rose. I truly appreciate you :)

[emipoemi]

"I *sought warmth"

This is solemn in its brilliance overall. Well done!

[Zoya]

Thank you so much for pointing that out! I appreciate your words on my page :)

[emipoemi]

my pleasure.

[Sami Khalil]

A sad story unfolds with touching elements of the past. Humans explore the meaning behind things and events for closure or solace. To make sense of in the general is to remove the fence surrounding us.

[Zoya]

Truly said, Sami. I really do appreciate your thoughts on my page. Thank you so much :)

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome Zoya...