Too full

And my drawers are too full

of loose laundry.

Shirts I never wear,

but can't bear to part with.

Layers of others' outerwear,

from men I haven't seen in years.

But still, I fold them.

Just like I'll fold you in with them,

when this covering becomes too worn,

and the holes no longer suit the standards 

of respectability,

or my taste.

But occasionally,

when it's cold out,

I'll slip you over my sleep skin.

And spend the night wrapped warm

in what's left of us.