my collection of sweaters keeps growing
each filled with adoration from ex-lovers
the way the cheap polyester would rub against
my bare skin
somehow reminding them that i
was theirs.

Too bad.
They forgot that I favor another sweater more--
that I wore it first,
that I am comfortable in my very own
skin
that I don't need their flimsy synthetics
to keep me warm on a cold and lonely night.