He wears her
Like dirty laundry;
Todays spontaneous surprise.

Unfolded
From it's previous
Immaculate compress.

Dismissed
From Friday's ornaments
Not by simple circumstance.

And if he's lonely
He will wear her
When there's no one to impress.

Behind sex
Theres just a hanger
Reserved for newer garb;

Left in a closet
She once occupied,
But fashions come and go.

Time could fade
Her beauty
From this critic's ample dream.

And sadly
Colors dull
When there's no eyes to observe.

Dirty laundry
Left beside the bed
To drop before he sleeps;

No softener,
Nor tumble dry,
She waits and wanes and weeps.

And when the stitching rips
She drops her lips
To the taste of his goodbye.

But she can't move
Because shes so used to
Sleeping cold at night.
 
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