I wore all my favorite outfits in the first week I met you,
all my colorful socks, all my best fitting pants.
The paint never washed off from the first ploy
to get you in my room and paint nonsense on the floor.
And the washer only made the tears worse
where seams ripped from shirts worn thin.
Thankfully, you don’t mind thrift-shop clothes someone else broke in.
Our first summer could unearth
my collection of shorts.
When the time is right, reveal the variety in my underwear drawer.
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