Closeted
I keep the men in my closet Wrapped up in weatherproof bags They drape from hangers No one has touched in years I have my favorites Fancy formal dresses That get worn just once A bridal gown drags the ground Locked away in its white body bag Amongst memories best forgotten Then there are the insignificant Testosterone tidbits Scraped from the bottom of my shoes That litter the floor of my closet I should really vacuum those out Boxes of pieces that no longer fit I’m just too damn sentimental To dump them off at the thrift I haven’t bought anything new in a while The Italian stitching and exotic fabrics Really did a number on my style