I like that you wear clothes that keep you warm.
They keep you warm enough so that I can hold you in my arms.
If they didn’t and you were cold I would be afraid I may smother you.
In my struggle to keep you warm and breathing I may smother you to death as cold as itself. It would be a shame. I’m sorry. But I cannot bear to hold you in my arms when you are cold cause I cannot.
If I tried I would override you.
My feet would stretch over your cold feet stroking it so that it yields. I may strike it off totally, knocking your bones off structure. And my arms over yours in a bid to keep them from being cold I wouldn’t stop wiping or swiping until I would have swiped their very skin off. No one would laugh at the funny bones cause they would be dreadful to look at. I’m not kidding.

Your face. My hands wouldn’t stop. In a bid to save it from the cold I’d rub and scratch. Ridding it of every make up or DNA matches. Your chest would be so cold I would stump on it. I wouldn’t take it. Your tommy I would try to fold it to keep it as warm as possible but no I would be tearing it apart. Your back I would try to keep it warm but it would prove too hard I would break it. I would rip you apart. I would reach for your cold, crusted lips. Try to bring it back to life, saliva for saliva, tooth for tooth. I would sweat. But you wouldn’t yield. My want would have drowned you. Stripped you…

I’m glad you wear clothes and they keep you warm. Warm enough for me to hold you in my arms. I love you. And I wouldn’t want to hurt you more than I would want anything else for you. I care that much that’s why I recommend them for you. You may not trust it much but then you would never know how cold you would have been without them. Cause you would be alive, warm and breathing so much so you wouldn’t know what it felt like to be cold. Clothed in your own beliefs, your own defense of yourself, your own pov, everything wears warm about you, from your thoughts on your sleeves down to the socks of articulate speech wrapping the ankles of your feet. And if your body is a house, you’re house warming until your fans have blown the skin of your face such that your lips react by spreading upward on your face like an omelette cooking in a pan.

I like that you wear clothes. They keep you warm and comfortable. I like that because that way, you can smile. But if you were cold, I’d never have access to your mind no matter how hard I scratched. I know that so I’m really glad you wear clothes. I am. Because now I can really hold you without the fear of losing you when what I really want is to keep you.
Signed
Jehovah.

(Let Jesus be the clothes, let the warmth be the love shed abroad our hearts. Rom 5:1-5)

Adaobi

(c) 2018