Locked in strange corridors
of my fever mind,
a wardrobe of fearful thoughts.
All ill-fitting,
borrowed,
badly chosen,
impulsively picked.
Decades of decisions piled high.
Rows of comments creating clutter.
Pockets of sense,
strewn about carelessly,
hard to access.
A cull of this uncouture was required.
Distorted memories,
but still magnetic
like moon pull,
removed from cramped corners.
Out in the open,
seen for their waste of space.
All that remains are everyday staples.
Realistic,
supportive,
transforming,
adaptable,
honest,
comfortable,
breathable,
environmentally conscious.
My capsule wardrobe works a treat.
My catwalk awaits.