A jacket with velvet cuffs in the back of your closet
Most days, I’ll hang there gathering dust
Until you feel like indulging your worst self
And putting me on
Eventually my wrinkles will never smooth
My fabric will fade and wear away
Until all that’s left is brightly colored threads
Lost to the light and swallowed by dark
I’ll be an afterthought when I am gone.
Published
Poetry Overdose 