The Glove


In a box,
In our room,
There is a glove
That I will always hold dear.

You gave me the glove,
When I was overcome by despair,
Trying to protect me from myself
Keep me from self-destruction.

For I was consumed by anxiety,
Mutilating my cuticles,
Picking until they were bloody and swollen,
Plucking away my fear, dread, and hopelessness.

But you gave me the glove,
Gifted me a reason to hope,
And helped hold me up,
Until I was able to stand on my own.

Our love was new,
Barely in its infancy,
But you stuck by me,
You braved my storm.

You have continued to do so,
I’m so sorry for the pain you’ve endured,
Watching me suffer,
I love you beyond words.

And I will always,
Hold onto that glove,
And cherish the joy of knowing,
How very much you love me too.

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