Half Dressed
She keeps changing jeans.
The ones she like
display improper fitting.
She only feels at home
when she's not sitting.
She's spitting out everything
but what's missing.
"What does life mean?"
She asks herself
but runs away from
the answer.
Staying numb at night
becomes her favorite cancer.
She shields herself with
warm bodies and cold kissing.
"What am I missing?"
She thinks aloud
but wants no one to listen...
And on her fridays,
Her tattoos hang sideways.
She numbs away the meaning
on her skin...
And she begins..
To search for some fun,
Hoping that someone,
Will mean more than
the words she has inked in...
She tries, fails, pretends
and gets dressed again..
She keeps changing jeans.
The ones she love
are tainted and stained
on the inside.
The One size fits all
pretending to be her size.
She sighs, and hopes for
a better choice the next time.
She's a slave to seams...
The jeans whose seams
seem exactly what she
searched for.
She often wears just
long enough to hurt her.
But they're what she finds.
She wonders if there's
any other kind...
And over time...
She begins to see this
pattern as a sign...
And then my phone rings,
And she tells me some things.
Asking me for friendly
help and advice.
And I play nice...
Hoping she feels better,
Cause she's a girl I care for.
Knowing what I say is
just wasted words...
And it seems absurd...
But I try to stay sweet,
Hoping that she may see:
It takes more than
perfect jeans to be...
Complete.
She'll never know the perfect pair
with all that's underneath her hair...
Incomplete.
Copyright © Audonus Taylor | Year Posted 2012
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