Underneath the ragged blue jeans

A hint of pink shows through

It holds in the pain

Of old injuries

Helps her to move

With half the grace she used to

There’s some dainty lace

Underneath her ragged jeans

It holds her in

Fills the need she has

To only have the softest things

Next to her skin

She always feels like she is on the ragged edge

Never quite safe

One wrong step

One misspoken word

She just might lose her step

But she just might fly, too

Underneath the ragged jeans

She hides too much

And feels too much

Only letting glimpses come through

But when she does

She finds herself back

On the ragged edge


In her ragged jeans

With all the grace she ever had


Jeanna’ Mead

608 a.m. 10.5.19


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