When the tv screen goes blank, and the denial cracks into anger, there is only one thing left to do, and I remember those patterns.
I remember the gold and gild. I remember the black lace and the velveteen purse too.
I tried to get rid of them, but they keep coming back like memories of us skinny dipping in the Mediterranean. The way the golden orb coated our skin in glow and the way your eyes shined only love for me, I cannot give it away.
I will line my new travel bag in these and embroider those memories too, since some patterns you never forget, even though we try to change them always.
You told me once that love is all there is, and I took your heart and smashed it on the floor since I found ice inside and I don't like spoiled milk.
You see, it wasn't you and it wasn't me, it was our pattern that came out lopsided and scratchy. We wore it, sewed it, loved on it, and smelled it's richness but the fabric was woven poorly and it started to tear not too long after we took it off the loom.
This is the lifecycle of the fashion trend.
Quick.
They say bell shaped curve and for the innovators, such as us, we rode that wave long and hard until we weren't trendy anymore and I was looking for gold while you were still wearing blue and we clashed, my dear, we just clashed in the daylight.
But nightime, it didn't matter, we cuddled close, we said our blessings, we felt each others smooth skin and drifted off.
Each day, we relied on the night.
The bringing together of broken bits, you with the pins and me with the needle, and we stitched together our fabric as we dreamed.
But morning woke us abruptly too often and we tore apart all the seams we had just made.
So when I tell you this pattern is off, please believe me.
I'm the one that studied textiles and how to sew a collar.
It was new and it was old. It was everything to crave and so much pain.
Listen to this trend report:
Unabashed, powerful and strong. Streaks of mauve, golden coins and tight, tight tank tops. Bold decisions, patience and honesty. Clear communication, date nights and pajama parties.
Thank you for the sunshine glow and the shadow behind it,
I'm remembering what I forgot,
the power inside,
the delights of mini cakes,
the passions and the heartache
it all makes me who I am, and I'm ready to weave once more.
