Shirts

By Prithika Ganesh The staple of my closet,

Center of every outfit

A version of me in fabric.

Changing from day to day

Mood to mood,

Reflecting every single facet of my being.

Intimate.

Hugs my skin more than any other being,

Expresses me more than any combination of words.

Cottons, wool, polyester, even silk

Drapes from the cuts of my shoulders.

Dancing around my waist,

Clinging around by wrists

Like handcuffs.

Different designers and fits you must have

Twelve different seasons you must adhere to,

Fashion laws you must not break.

The jailers to your sanity

For a version of you now trapped in vanity

Their touch,

Their convincing, their advertising,

Making those loyal T-shirts in the back of

Your closet feel inferior.

You’re lost.

On a Saturday night are you in a faded grey

T-shirt sprinkled with ketchup stains or a royal purple tube top?

Are your arms doning Valentino red or an oversized lump of wool?

Are you reclaiming style or comfort?

Yourself or your image?

Choose wisely. That hanger holds more than you think.