denim

you cursed me with your closet

Of denim demons

that fit me like a glove 

and the ghostly whisper 

of what could have been love


your jeans are tailored to my hips 

I know because when your pelvis

pressed against mine

they shared the same width 


the length of your legs equal to mine 

I know because of how perfectly 

Our exhausted limbs intertwined 

After you finished and rested inside


I keep you in my pitiful pockets 

Collecting stranger’s complements 

Of how these jeans were meant for me

I bury this hope and lock it. 


You weave through the belt loops

Of my tortured mind 

Shame of letting myself stoop

So low. To taste your frayed forbidden fruit.  


The zipper is stuck

And I try everything to pull myself up

From dwelling in your denim 

But I still wear them out, 

Saying I dont give a fuck. 


Though I do. 

reminding myself of the truth:

that I wear them better than you  

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knight