I washed you, tumble
dried you;
even brushed the furry
cuffs of your stitched-to-skin jacket.
I gave you forehead kisses
and hugged your fuzzy face.
I did everything I could
just for you to keep
your innocence because
last year, I sullied you.
My nights
spent worrying about
obviously ended friendships
previously thought timeless
split your seams, and
questions completely unanswerable
stabbed your cotton-stuffed core
until ruby-red thread gushed from
your belted torso—
You had undergone enough of
my emotional void.
So, I tidied up and
wiped my thoughts clean
with outdoor detoxes full of deep breaths
and crumpled Clorox wipes.
And eventually
I was clean enough to clean you.
So,
after a while,
you did
become new again.
Because I washed you, tumble
dried you;
even resewed the seams
of your stitched-to-skin jacket.
I gave you forehead kisses
and hugged
your re-fuzzied face.