I try to wear you once in a while, making sure if you fit the same as the last time i checked
But then again, whenever i notice the apparent worn off, tired seams from the fabric that was once our love, I go back again and sew them together,
Carefully threading the gaps back where they once were sewn tightly shut, left with no space for inadequacy, hardly any place for scarcity of love.
My misguided, solitary efforts then proved a love with tenuous and delicate clothing that has misplaced its capacity to wear out storms and excessive usage.
Back there is where i find that not everything burnt out could rekindle its flame.