“I’ve lost my tuxedo, my strong suit”

I asked for a ‘line’ to begin this poem this morning.  Chatting about emotional availability and such relational experiences with a friend.  I, making a statement about the challenge of that, and that it might not be “…your best suit.”  And out of that, came this line.  Oh… I like it.  Let’s see where it goes shall we….

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‘I’ve lost my tuxedo, my strong suit”

It was from Paris and fit me like a glove

I lent that best suit of mine to someone

Someone’s got my ‘best suit’

And now I have no suit at all

No suit to protect my emotional vulnerability

And what suits me up in my protection

Is all layered up with decades of proof

That I might not be all that worthy of love

I’ve lost my tuxedo, my strong suit

I wore it well till I lent it out to someone

I suit up now with beer and smoke

And the distance that lives in that avoidance

I do lay my best cards down everyday

Let the ‘deal’ fall as it may with the hope

For that Royal Flush to win over the mundane

That suits some days and not others

In the lonely of the singularity

I’ve lost my tuxedo, my strong suit

It fit me like a glove Paris styled

I wish I knew who I lent it to

It suited me back in the day

Looking good in my show of self

In the no fear of vulnerability

strutting the confidence of youth

Not needing the to be available

except for the surfaces with the Jack wild

And I was suited up for the take me I’m yours

I wish I knew who I lent it to

It fit me like a glove

It suited me