Frayed Khaki's

Rupture the silence with a knock on the jamb
Tell me once more, how beautiful I am
"It doesn't matter," he said, "about your past,"
Falsities spoken through a clever mask
So wait, it's a lie. And it's not what I want
Taunted, misled by his beautiful front
Those perfect khakis, frayed at the ends
But he stood around proudly, just fitting in
Pointing and laughing, telling stories, calling names
I saw your facade but stayed, just the same
Could the tenderness of a child's truth
Reach to the hardened core of you?
No, the snow's dirty. The ground, grassless.
The sky, starless; and me, classless.
The "classless cunt," you said, I recall
I protected you from it, you took no fall
God forbid your true colors be shown to your friends
God forbid they see your khakis, frayed at the ends.

-Cristina Johnson