To My Dearest Red Dress,

I hope that when you hug her wine-bottle body you never look cheap.

I hope that her Wonderbra and refusal to wear panties never make you uncomfortable.

I hope that when she pulls you down

a bit to expose her breasts to the bartender, you don’t

take it personally.

I hope that before she whines, “Time to go,” she doesn’t spill half of her

drink on your soft fabric.

I hope that once you’ve been clumsily tossed into the darkest

corner of her closet, she doesn’t forget about you.

I hope that she doesn’t pick up a new dress that looks exactly like you

but in black next week.

I hope that her hand-me-down love is worth it.

Always,

Your Mannequin