jeans torn and they will never be the same
I wonder if they came that way
or if kissed by concrete once too often 
they fell apart
relieved to be hanging by a thread
the way of tattered flags in the wind
the scent of summer
skies fading to a deep purple
like her bruises now exposed
and healing
always healing

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Visit thepoets.co or The Poets on Spotify to hear more Denver poets share their work.

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Photo by Maude Frédérique Lavoie on Unsplash