I bought a mannequin for $65
it was used, just like you.
it has a stain on its chest
where our matching birthmarks lie
two skin toned islands, both yours.
I carried it home on a rainy evening,
like that wine buzzed night we shared,
baked it your favorite cake,
chocolate, dulce de leche, strawberry.
it was vegan, just for you.
I dressed it up in the clothes you left:
yoga pants, leopard print bralette, black scarf.
your parting gifts.
I'm sure it's cold,
I'll put the space heater on high,
like I always did for you.
it doesn't talk much, it just sits
eyes vacant, without breath,
empty.
like you were at the end.
a fine replacement.
it was used,
just like you.