Ode To A Pair Of Shorts
That Were A Pair Of Pants
This is Sitting Queerly, a newsletter focused on the late blooming queer experience, the lofty goal of opening up conversations and celebrating those who embrace their full selves.
I ripped you again
Beneath a rear pocket
Jagged and frayed, threads clinging
Desperately, holding the edges close
I noticed as I went to put you back on
After I showered with him
After we laid together for a while
And I wondered “maybe it’s time
They had a good run.”
But quickly put that thought out of mind
So I slipped you on
And when I got home carefully slipped you off
And set you aside
So in the morning I could turn you inside out
And see all the wounds terribly mended
Scar tissue of differing shades and hues
Some on top of each other
The next most recent one
Discovered after a night out with friends
When I took you off so you couldn’t hide me
Just as everyone else wasn’t hiding
Then I woke up the next day
And wasn’t as surprised as I should have been to see that tear
Just as I wasn’t surprised to wake up with him next to me
And now I’m cutting a new patch
To contour to this fresh wound
I see the frayed edges along the inside of the hems
And debate whether to trim them
But they’ll just fray more
And I like seeing the threads dangle
Above my tattoo, hopefully the first of many
It’s ok to be messy, it’s ok to be imperfect
Because you were perfect, you looked good before
I wore you to work and to church and to family functions
Even when you had mended tears along the waist
I wore sweaters and untucked polos to hide them
Until that day when you ripped above the knee
Above my tattoo
And I couldn’t hide that
Just as I wasn’t hiding anything anymore
But I was excited because now
I could make you something else
Something I wanted
Now I wear you with tank tops and Sperrys
I wear you when I most want to be seen
I know one day it will happen
The tear, the rip that can’t be fixed
But I know it will happen only when you and I
Have done it intentionally
Without regard for what we used to be