I saw the coat hanging behind the glass pane

I saw the coat hanging behind the glass pane,

a ghost of a winter we spent in the rain.

The sleeves were too long and the collar was wide,

just like the one that you helped me to hide.

I went to the thrift shop and sat on the stool,

feeling the suede like a soft, dusty pool.

I ran my tired knuckles against the dark grain,

letting the texture take over my brain.

I left a dark thumbprint right there in the pile,

a mark of my oil that will stay for a while.

The fabric went flat where my pressure was applied,

keeping the secret of how much I've lied.