You remind me of
these seven-dollar thrift store jeans
that make me feel like a million bucks,
gripping my thighs
and grabbing my ass,
lifting me up to the world
as if to shout,
I give. no. fucks.
(I said I'm thrifty,
not cheap.)
But after a little wear,
we're feeling loose and easy.
Maybe it's the weight of your keys
in my pocket,
or the way fabric rubs together,
or how I move when you say
you love to watch me
walk --
I'd like to think it's all the
exercise we're getting,
or maybe that we keep missing meals.
~I'm hungry. Let's skip dinner.~
Am I changing my shape?
Are you making me lighter?
Old denim hugs the curves of a new me.
So tell me one more time,
say it,
~Ooh, those hips~
and I will leave these jeans on the floor,
because damn, Boy,
you look good on me.

11/17/2014

Posted on 11/25/2014
Copyright © 2024 Meredith C Hartwell