We all had a favorite pair of jeans in the 6th grade,
They fit just right,
Like they were made just for us.
Eventually we outgrew them.
You were my favorite pair of jeans.
In the 6th grade our hearts fit perfectly together,
In the 7th the fit got a little snug,
But we convinced ourselves that it was still the same.
Now we're four years older.
Our perfect fit is long outgrown.
Cleaning out my closet,
I look at those jeans.
They are 3 sizes too small,
With rips and tears
That we tried so desperately to patch up,
For fear of letting this go.
There are stains from mascara tears,
And words written in sharpie
That can never be erased.
Trust me,
I tried.
With a heavy heart,
I put my hand into the pockets
And find memories of our past.
I'll keep them in a box close to my heart,
But it's time to throw the jeans away.