Denim

I fell asleep with my jeans still on.
the light shining away.
My tv humming with a soft murmur,
Late night infomercials a static lullaby.
I lay with no blankets,
A wide open window,
Welcoming the snows clean, crisp,
Frozen reality.
Curled into a ball of intriguing despair.
A scarf woven through my fingers,
A solid mirage in the spaces that contained yours.
Your scent manages to invade my senses
As it drifts its way into my little ball.
Once so secure,
Now infiltrated by electric ends.
my volume is turned to vibrate only,
I shiver.
I can feel your touch,
I shiver.
I fell asleep with my jeans still on.
And the tears,
black mascara puddles within the dark, distressed denim.

by Jordan Griffiths

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