Life & Style, Poetry
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comfort clothes

Content warning: strong language

Don’t get too settled in those old comfort clothes,
Cold nostalgia will pierce you right through to the bone
Lose control to the venom eased through fresh emerald veins
A sweet intoxication, dear hindsight, you’re a futile defence
Eternal strings heart to heart, but now the mind has outgrown
Tell me, where does your body go when I leave you alone?

My sins are bound to be more original than most
Play the harlot, act the fool, sharp tongue trained to provoke
Still mocked by the monster, under earth but so lightly awoken
Moss eyes saturate, weathered vision on the dark path untaken
Fuck your divine judgement, go ahead and reproach
I’ll drink His wine, drown the monster, rid what’s left of your ghost

Take note, or be smothered by your old comfort clothes
An accustomed coffin feigns a temporary home
Snow-covered lover wrapped up in daydreams adored
But you know those old clothes just don’t fit anymore
So watch the rags burn from your knees and atone
Or, blackened heart and lungs, you’ll be doomed to love alone

Ella Johnson is a final year English student with a passion for politics, pop culture and literature. She also acts as Lifestyle Chief Editor and the 20/21 Secretary & Wellbeing Officer for LSM. You can find her on Instagram here

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