Some say it is a burning pit, or eternity in torture and torment. I tend to think it is an absence of God, no matter where that period of time is spent. Oh, I have seen them all: Donii; Jos; all peoples Gods and several thought about by a single denizen who walked this green world and was alternatively regaled or reviled. Now I find myself in a room filled with fresh and dried dung, rotting tools, and foods prepared hundreds of years ago but not consumed because they are more valuable than potatoes. Oh, and there is a pile of potatoes too… a few crumbling tools, weapons, and iron… remember when iron was the basis of everything?
In my years I have seen stains, and have been discarded from the bodies of those no more, or those who serve carnal desires. There I did lay upon the floor while walls, doors, and feather beds became the places where lust was sated. Sometimes I was never even forsaken for the immersion of bathtubs or beaches; I was merely a figment of imaginary removal or never even mentioned at all behind locked doors or in whispers.
I have been a symbol of wealth, or the depravity of scavengers; never ripped or stained by the cutting blows that caused scars and bloodshed. Wars have been fought for my control and I have been used to signal status. For those who have not guessed by now, I am silk. More specifically, I am a dress, a corset, a ribbon, a jacket, a vest, a gown… As the world has aged, the forms I have taken only grow with the whimsy of the designers and their submissions to the demi-gods of design. My journey has seen love and hate; humor and now to such profusion to make myself and permutations to the commonplace.
Still, here I rest here in a forgotten pile behind locked doors in a town that humanity has forgotten. This is my lonely and desolate hell where I no longer grace the ample curves (In all the right places!) of many ladies whose names are forgotten to annals of promises and sunsets without darkness.
Here I wait to be found again, to once again attain color and give life to the smile of one who dares to don my history long forgotten. The blood and fluids have faded and I am as good as new, yet I wait in obscurity. Come find me and drape me once again. Rescue me from obscurity and I will fit you well, because one size fits all.
I’m waiting here,