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In Stitches by Jazzy Colbert
They ask why this raggedy red sweater
I pair with my outfits every day
still fits too long for me to shake hands
or try to stand outside of the shade.
If these tank-topped travelers saw
how I have changed what I have been given,
they would know that any worry I wear
becomes my second skin.
This material always itches.
It looms sturdier and clingier
the more I try to stretch it.
Resistance only makes sweat linger.
I will wear its ugliness
until it unravels before me.
I feel fabric give way around the collar
as you ask what color I would rather be wearing.