Your favorite pair of jeans.
Worn so much
There's your shape
Left as a print
On the very fabric.
Then begins the fray.
It starts at the ankles.
Where friction rubs out
Threads. You're wearing
Something so worn
You can tell it's gone.
They don't even
Fit right anymore.
You try to sew, hem,
And patchwork it.
When the tiny holes appear
On fabric above knees
You'll understand it's too late.
Because one day you
Stick your whole foot inside
And you rip them straight through.