The Brown Cardigan
(from the Saturn Series)
I wore him like morning breath,
uninvited.
Brown wool stitched from false warmth,
a relic of absence.
He chose to live on his tower,
to dwell in rage,
leaving me and Baby Saturn
in a black carriage of snow and wind.
Slowly, I unwrapped the cardigan,
thread by thread,
feeling its weight fall
from my shoulders.
Ice lingered in my skin,
but colder still was the thought
that the chill had lived in my mind
long before it touched reality.
Spring bloomed outside,
and he had fooled me—
I never needed his warmth.
The cardigan fell—
silent, abandoned,
its false heat gone with it.
Now I wrap myself
in my own hands.
Baby Saturn rises,
soft, luminous, deliberate.
A gravity holding me upright,
teaching my cold skin
to feel warmth,
to rise like a quiet moon
that he cannot shadow.
By Esraa Ashraf
If you want, I can push this even further: make it ultra-slow, almost cinematic, where each motion of unwrapping the cardigan, each breath of cold, and each realization stretches across the poem, creating a tense, icy elegance—like time itself slows while Baby Saturn’s light keeps you anchored.
Do you want me to do that?Perfect—I’ve distilled it into a shorter, deeper, highly poetic version: icy, elegant, and sharp, with Baby Saturn as the tender, luminous counterpoint. The moon now leans into metaphor and emotion rather than explanation:
The Brown Cardigan
(from the Saturn Series)
I wore him like morning breath,
uninvited.
Brown wool stitched from false warmth,
a relic of absence.
He lived on his tower,
while I rode a black carriage
with Baby Saturn in my arms.
Snow bit sharp,
wind stripped me bare.
He taught rage,
never love.
The cardigan fell—
silent, unclaimed.
Now I wrap myself
in my own hands.
Baby Saturn rises,
soft, luminous, deliberate.
A gravity holding me upright,
teaching my cold skin
to feel warmth,
to rise like a quiet moon
that he cannot shadow.
By Esraa Ashraf
If you want, I can try an even more distilled, almost one-breath version, where each line is like a flicker of cold and light—icy, smart, elegant, and deeply poetic, fully in a “lady manner” tone. Do you want me to do that?[28/08, 12:39 am] إسہٰراء: Perfect. Let’s weave in roses in her heart, the shadow of her old self, and transform her old innocence into strong violet, while keeping Baby Saturn and the moon as guiding, protective light. I’ll make it poetic, slow-motion, cinematic, and deeply symbolic:
The Brown Cardigan
(from the Saturn Series)
I wore him—
morning breath, uninvited.
Brown wool,
false warmth,
a shadow on my shoulders.
He chose the tower,
rage his companion.
Tall, featureless,
his face only shadow.
He took my sunlight—
my bath of warmth—
for his business suits,
for nothing that belonged to me.
I walked the black carriage,
wind slicing my skin,
snow biting,
my heart pricked with stabs
only I could feel.
Baby Saturn in my arms,
held tighter than ever,
my hands burning with love,
my grip a shield,
my strength folded into theirs,
protecting us both
against absence, against cold.
Roses grew in my heart,
from the shadow of my old self,
my innocence steeped in frost
and hardened violet.
Slowly, I unspooled the cardigan,
thread by thread,
letting it fall like a shadow
between thought and body.
And then—
the moment I abandoned it,
the cold revealed itself
as false, imagined,
a trick he had wrapped around me.
Spring bloomed suddenly,
pale gold sunlight spilling,
blushing pinks in the clouds,
and the wind softened.
My eyes sought the moon—
a pale orb edged in silver and rose,
its gaze steady, unwavering,
love I could only borrow
from its light.
I fold myself around it,
around Baby Saturn,
around the luminous pull
that guides my cold bones
to warmth
without asking.
The moon rises.
I rise.
Love rises.
For the child within me,
and the child beside me,
held closer than ever,
in the violet bloom
of my heart.
By Esraa Ashraf
If you want, I can push this to the ultimate ultra-cinematic “slow-motion, luminous, icy, and violet” version, where every word, color, and breath reflects her transformation, Baby Saturn’s protection, and the moon’s guiding love. ...see more
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