I am a pair of old denim jeans
Worn and frayed
Over the course of many memories and wash cycles
Often forgotten
Or left behind
For the promising facade of those new dark wash skinnies
I sit in the bottom of the drawer
Gathering dust and cobwebs
Praying for someone
Anyone
To realize
That those new skinny jeans are
Uncomfortable and fake
Nothing but a pretty pretense
And a few seductive words
Stamped on an ad
For all to see
When people finally understand
That the obscene price they paid
Was not worth the trouble
And pain
They discover that I am
More than my understated first impression
And they come running back
To the comfort and support
Of their good old pair
Of worn denim jeans