I wore you like an antique glove.
One stowed in an attic, that time forgot.
One that isn't in vogue now.
One that embodies all the values of your grandmother's era.
A style seldom carried today.
I wore you like a retro-trend before its time.
I wore it 'til its delicate seams were fragile.
'Til its velveteen finger-points were grubbied
From all the frequent turning
of all your crudely-inked pages.
I wore you when everyone else forgot you were a thing.
I still do.
I can't not.