The Sweater

I am your dark blue sweater,

the one you wear when you walk

to work on cold, Tuesday mornings.

I hang on your skin in the rain

and you don’t realize how the color

makes your eyes deeper, brighter.

I am the sweet, musky aroma

that clings to you in the smoky bar,

your last memory as you drift into sleep.

Slip me over your head, slide your hands

through my dark spaces, feel my warmth

like candlelight brushing your skin.