A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing-Kristiana Reed

It wasn’t until after you’d left

me with voices in my head,

that I found your sweater;

mutton-coloured, merino wool

folded neater than I could ever be.

 

I pulled it on in my haphazard,

this is why you’re not a mother way.

You would have gently sneered

as the itchy wool shuddered

over my shoulders,

juddered down my front.

 

It was your size yet too tight,

a collar of beaded cotton teeth

caressing my jugular

threatening consumption of anything

which made me whole.

 

I wore it anyway.

In solidarity with the love

I once messily kindled,

with the friendship I once tended;

as you softly brandished secateurs,

pruning to perfection

your unruly rose.

 

Even though it itched,

picked, at my imperfections

with a snarling grin,

I wore it for a day.

 

Like you, I sneered;

white claws drawing blood

from my lips.

Like you, I wore expectations

taught by an unfaithful father

and coddling mother.

Like you, I stared hard

at soles with the nerve

to walk upon this earth,

alongside my perfect feet,

dressed in you.

 

One day was enough.

To finally meet the wolf;

who had charmed his way

into my nightdress,

who had almost devoured me,

who had almost married me.

In clothing which made me messy

and he pretty – petty.

 

I pulled off your sweater

from the bottom;

unravelled its edges

like I broke your heart.

I burnt the remaining thread.

 

I burnt it, in the flames

of the ardour,

I never felt for you.

 

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Kristiana Reed juggles writing and teaching English; in both vocations she endeavours to remind people of their self worth and how dazzlingly beautiful the world can be.

You can read more of Kristiana’s writing at My Screaming Twenties