The Jeans He Bought Me
Creased, crisp,
they cupped my curves
slyly, stretching so nice
over Christmastime thighs.
The casual shrug of denim
held my hips, and that
beautiful break at the knee…
They had
a tenor zipper,
firm brass button,
hems tucked neat, sweet,
I could swear they smelled like his cologne.
But the zip stopped,
button popped,
the knee stretched thin and then it cracked,
had to be patched,
grass stains sprouted,
mud speckled the heels.
I scrubbed
and scrubbed.
The hems fell and
I don’t know when,
but this old blue skin just
stopped holding me.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
