you don't know
how grateful I am for you,

sleek and white and silent,
as I stain your fabric with secrets between sobs.

Someday, I promise,
I'll make it up to you.

I'll dress you in those mustard-colored cases
I've had lying in the Home Goods bag for over a month.

I'll cover you up and let you be modest for once,
pretending my life is as happy as your new clothes.