Did you mean to forget me, for all this time?

I have watched you grow (and grow, and grow), from your bed to your floor to your wardrobe under your clothes. Did I do something wrong? Once, I protected you from nightmares, from the boogey man under the bed. Then, you grew tired of me, you did not need me anymore, I lived under your bed for months at a time, with the cat-fur and the other forgotten toys.


How can I protect you if I cannot be with you?


Sometimes, you’d remember me for a little while; When my bowtie fell off, you cried until it was sewn back on again “Good as new!”, then I was forgotten once more. Then your cat got fleas, and I got fleas, and you took me from the floor to the back of your wardrobe. ‘To protect me’, you said, you didn’t want me getting infested again, you said. You didn’t mention the darkness in there.

Perhaps, if you spent more time with me, not under the bed, you’d know I’m scared of the dark. (You protected me as much as I protected you). Perhaps you wouldn’t have left me there on my own. (I heard you from behind your clothes, you still cry out from your nightmares, why didn’t you find me? I would have chased them away).


I heard you cry in the day, too. When did you become so sad, did you forget you could come to me?

I remember when I finally left the wardrobe, I noticed you had grown some more. You held me so tightly, that I missed the waif-bandages on your arm. I found my place back on the bed (then, eventually, the floor), and found you had more nightmares than you had before. There was no longer a boogey man, no boggart for me to fight. (Perhaps, in my joy of reuniting with you, I overlooked the new marks on your skin, that hadn’t been there before). ­

 
Yesterday, I think, you forgot me again, and the protection that I can bring. Instead, you tossed your coat on to me. (Did you not see me there? You seemed upset…). I hope you remove the coat soon. It’s dark over here now.


Maybe, I could stitch you together again, like you did for me all those years ago?