My Wardrobe

My wardrobe was defenceless

As I set forth on my cull

To strip bare every hanger

To be decisive and not mull


Clothes littered every surface

Synthetic fibres filled the floor

From the vintage to the modern

As I emptied every drawer


Moth-riddled knits, of old assumptions

Threadbare, unravelling at the seams

No longer held the pure allure

Of their purchase-day, bought dreams


Jeans of different coloured denims

Bought to lift and shape and tuck

Promises broken like their zippers

Now in a pile and ready to chuck


Of all the glittering dresses

That did confidently project

A shiny armour of pretence

Their own bias, just circumspect


Stylish layers of anticipation

To wear close and to the skin

No longer touched, by hands of another

Are now lifeless and wearing thin


Too much material to handle

In garments for every event

Just a preoccupied illusion

Of my cloth-made discontent