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Hi guys!
What's your problem?
How women dress
How are you concerned?
Whether they
Torn pants
Torn jeans
None of your business
You've poor mental hygiene
Chief Minister?
And you talk like this
Were you and your daughters
Born with clothes
God sent you all naked
Primitive man
Like you wasn't fake
Clothes originated
Protecting your bodies
Hostile environment
Slaves of baser instincts
Now for hiding their weaknesses
Sanskara don't lie
In your clothes
But in your brains
Etiquette evolved over time
By the society
Dominated by males
Must go
Unshackle women
And set them free
A Chief Minister criticizes publicly a well educated woman for wearing jeans ripped at knees.
I lay here and stare at the stitching in my new hat made in Bangladesh.
There are few other things I know about this country.
I imagine the sewing machines and brown fingers and faces working to get by.
Some, I imagine, with mopeds.
I imagine the teams of fabric.
The spools of thread.
Sewing on a tag that they may not be able to read.
Amongst the tropic-like weather.
Annual income less than what I make in a month.
That's about what my paper route paid: $600/year.
Tatiana Apr 28
I'm manufactured like hand-me-down clothes.
Worn at the seams though I'm not old.
Elastic stretched out,
zipper caught on its own track,
my buttons won't snap.
The threads at my knees tear
revealing scarred skin that won't disappear.

But I can roll the hems,
unlatch the zipper,
replace the buttons.
And truthfully, I like the look of jeans
with rips at the knees
so what if it reveals me?

I wear the clothes of my mother and sisters
what they loved is now mine to claim
for it doesn't quite fit them anymore
and perhaps some seams ripped
but that I can fix so it will fit me.

The clothes I wear may not be new
and hold old hopes that won't come true
but it holds old love too.
Sometimes I look at a shirt I got when I was younger that used to be my sister's and I think how often I'm wearing the love of my family.
mikhaltsov Feb 10
you store olden clothes in rear closets
smaller size doesn't fit
but you're slow to release it
you drip golden particles from under the sleeves
blue scent just soaked in
he couldn't move on

red wine bottles grow dusty
waiting for someone
to slop it all over the floor
I see
three-year race was puzzling
five-star, I still chime you
to slip back in my door

laying eyes on all my sweaters
through lens
you scan breaches in my polished facets
sticked out are
the tiniest strings

busy streets are our checkpoints
same curly haircuts
and same curvy outfits
all facets of yours in a walking men

haven't told you
you booked rent-free place
in my wardrobes
when squeezing your hand
but man, you're stale as bread too

**** you blue smell
from that dressing room
karly codr Feb 6
i've discovered recently
that i really like
oversized clothes
not because i'm trying to be trendy
but because it's easier to hide
Amy Nov 2020
How can you judge
With your eyes alone?

I do not care for your colorful shoes
Nor your expensive jacket
Even less for that long car

Why would you?

Is it truly all we wish for
Something to please the eye with?

Does it bring you more pleasure?
Then a talk about the stars?

I want a connection
Not just attraction

The excitement to meet someone new
Often melts away after a day
Maybe after a date

I want more
I want to see beyond your soul

Tell me what you miss
What you hope for

Your story is what I long after
Not your empty shell
Poetic T Oct 2020
We may give them all of us,
                          but they are cheap,
                             ******* around like were
worth 5 cents and not the diamond that we gave them.

But they end up broke,
                                broke up,
                 broke as there on the street.

Clothes on the pavement.
And we were richer without them, no ******* around,
                          begging like were paupers.

But were prosperous without them,
                            there begging on the street.
The only thing they get is middle fingers,
             and your trash your love isn't even worth

the 2 cents to recycle...
Jada Sep 2020
Cross your arms in front and grip  

Peel away from your own skin

your 100% cotton exoskeleton

Raise it up, up, up

Let it envelop your head like a cocoon

Up, up, up  

Until you are naked again

Feel the breeze


Walk over to the basket  

See how many you's you have been  

(they served you then)  

Walk over to the dresser  

Crawl into a new beginning  

Uncross your arms and relax
Pockets Aug 2020
Kissing your door knobs
Trying to find your light switch
When I am with you I am home
As soon as I come in you strip off all my clothes
And let me know I am welcome here
When I am with you I am an unlocked door
Anything that is mine is yours
The currents
the drapes
The window into a past from which I try to escape
When we step into the shower
And wash the world from each others backs
I want you to be the only thing that takes their place
We lay in bed and hum like microwaves
Till ceiling fan finally falls asleep
Kyle Jul 2020
We use makeup and clothes as an armor.
We use makeup to cover our scars;
We dress up to look confident and strong.
We use it differently;
Some used it to make themselves more beautiful;
Some used it to protect themselves from getting bullied, mock and etc.
Not just by using makeup and clothes as an armor,
But we should also use who we truly are as an armor.
Never forget about your true selves just because you use makeup and clothes as an armor,
But we should also embrace and love ourselves for who we truly are.
Covering up scars and dressing up to look confident and strong is just a quality of our armor ;
But what we really have as an armor is ourselves.
Love and embrace yourself
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