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 

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