Half Dressed

She keeps changing jeans. The ones she like display improper fitting. She only feels at home when she's not sitting. She's spitting out everything but what's missing. "What does life mean?" She asks herself but runs away from the answer. Staying numb at night becomes her favorite cancer. She shields herself with warm bodies and cold kissing. "What am I missing?" She thinks aloud but wants no one to listen... And on her fridays, Her tattoos hang sideways. She numbs away the meaning on her skin... And she begins.. To search for some fun, Hoping that someone, Will mean more than the words she has inked in... She tries, fails, pretends and gets dressed again.. She keeps changing jeans. The ones she love are tainted and stained on the inside. The One size fits all pretending to be her size. She sighs, and hopes for a better choice the next time. She's a slave to seams... The jeans whose seams seem exactly what she searched for. She often wears just long enough to hurt her. But they're what she finds. She wonders if there's any other kind... And over time... She begins to see this pattern as a sign... And then my phone rings, And she tells me some things. Asking me for friendly help and advice. And I play nice... Hoping she feels better, Cause she's a girl I care for. Knowing what I say is just wasted words... And it seems absurd... But I try to stay sweet, Hoping that she may see: It takes more than perfect jeans to be... Complete. She'll never know the perfect pair with all that's underneath her hair... Incomplete.