A seventh poem of love?

When I first drafted #7, I loved it. This was the Dog's Bollocks, I thought. The next day I wasn't so sure it was the best thing I'd ever written, the day after I thought it was a reasonable draft. Now, I hate the original draft. Reading it pains my eyes.

Let's hope this redraft manages to calm my eyes for a little while:

Love Poem #7
So many garments
rolled tight to fit
in this cupboard.

"When did we stop
dressing up to keep
each other entertained?"

Such a stupid hat, ribbons
and shoddy cloth worn
one day at a fair.

"Prune the drawers:
shirts, jeans, boots -
bag them for charity."

We fleece each other,
let fall rags and jewels:
fingers trace the drapes of skin.

"Let others consider
old skins, browse
for a cap, or a shoe."