poetry- sisu's closet

sisu's Closet

She opens the closet wide.
Searching over her wardrobe carefully.
She is not looking for
the -perfect- outfit to wear.
She is looking over her cloaks,
all lined up in a row.
There for easy access,
in case one is needed.

Each one has its purpose,
and in a way,
they are all the same.
To hide.
While others hide behind their masks,
she prefers the security
of these fine tailored cloaks.
Each one a perfect fit.
Some more comfortable to wear,
only because of the amount of time
she spends in them.

She takes one out,
holding it up to inspect it for tears,
flaws that may be in the fabric.
A way through her defenses.
The light blue silk is cool to the touch.
Almost indifferent.....
Holding itself away everyone,
aloof.

She carefully places it back on the rack,
knowing she does not need that right now.
She pushes a few aside,
the dark brown wool,
hard to touch,
prickly.
It hurts to wear this one,
she thinks to herself.
Pain.....rough to the touch.
Scratching at her skin.
She frowns and moves it aside.

Her hand lingers on
the next one she touches.
A rich, royal velvet.
Soft and inviting.
Alluring....
drawing others closer.
Passion is what she feels
when she wears this one.
The warmth and glow of a lovers embrace.
Freedom to express
the erotic woman underneath.
And worn far too little.
She sighs to herself,
and moves on.

The next is so dark she almost misses it.
A sooty, black floor length linen.
Meant to obscure the wearer,
to keep them in the shadows.
Loneliness...
drawing herself away from others when
she slips into this one.
A shadow...
there...
but not quite there at all.

Sighing softly she moves on
. Her hands touch a almost tranparent,
white, filmy cloak.
Vunerable....
it's not often she wears this one either.
And never in public.
Would be too easily torn, ruined.
Too easy to get to the real her underneath.
She shivers and continues on.

Grinning to herself,
she pulls the next one out.
You can almost see
the immediate laughter bubble
up inside her as she
gazes at the worn muticolored
fabric of the heavy cloak she holds.
She folds it over her arm,
running her hand along all the different
colors there.
Laughter....
it pours out of her freely.
This one is often worn,
people like it.
And she likes to see
the response it gets from others.
Joy...
in the happiness
and laughter
of others.

She replaces it carefully among the others
and moves on....
looking...
searching.

She takes one last one out and tries it on.
Wrapping herself up
in the warm familiar
feel of fur.

She smiles,
this is the one she likes best,
but sadly,
is the one she has never worn.
There has been times
when she thought she might get to.
But it was always returned to the closet.
In almost pristine condition.
Love...
surrounding her,
all consuming.
She rubs her cheek lovingly
against the silky fur.
How she longs for the security of this cloak.
Wanting it with every fiber of her being.
A single tear slips down her cheek
as she takes it off again
smoothing the folds as she
chokes back the hurt and pain.
Hoping to someday slip into
it's secure feeling and never
have to take it off again.

~sisu~

1999