I am your Favourite Top

I am your favourite top. M&S. Green bold pattern. You wore and wore me, but good old M&S I kept on going. And then you found me peppered with little holes all down my back. I know how they got there, and I know that you had your suspicions. It doesn’t matter as you threw me away anyway. But let me tell you now, you were right.

I am the outfit that you wore on ‘make or break’ night. I am a combination of ripped bra, torn knickers, shredded fishnet (yes, how low did you stoop that day, what were you thinking) tights. The brand new skirt and the ‘orange for emotions’ top ~ you bought me in such a positive state of mind. “I never wear orange,” you said, “so I’ll try wearing you.”

I am the pillow who recorded your dreams, your sleepless nights, and of course your nightmares. I am drenched in tears and fears. I speak for the mattress and even the bedframe when I say, good riddance, we saw your suffering and we are glad you ended it, even though it meant we couldn’t be there to comfort you. We want you to know that we understand.

I am the mirror in the bathroom who not only reflected but absorbed your experiences. I have moved to a happier place now but I still play back the things that I saw in my back to front world. I saw your light grow, I saw his games, I know what he did. I am your silent witness and I know your truth.

I am the air in the front room. I am why you had to go. All the candles and prayers and blessings could not cleanse me. I do not blame you for leaving. When I remember it still makes me cry and I hang heavy on that sullied carpet and glare at the shameful windows.

I am the door you will never open again. The one that your dog laid against all night, crying in pain and begging to die. I remember that night. I remember the tears. The pain is embedded in my cheap two-ply wood.

I am the toilet which he violated. I am the ghost in every toilet you visit. I do not wish to haunt you, but I am railing with confusion and despair, and when I rail I’m sorry to say that you rail too. But if you hadn’t ever have let him in, this wouldn’t have happened to you.

I am the white chest of drawers which you gave away. I am the polka dot bikini which was in the knicker drawer which you asked your sister to put into a bin bag, lock, stock and barrel, and take to the tip. I am every thread which touched you, every piece of furniture which betrayed you, the air you breathed, the scents you smelled, the sounds you heard, the views you saw.

I am your old life. I am not here anymore. You can let me go now and I will leave you in peace. You have suffered enough.

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