Her Ripped Blue Jeans

A poem I wrote for a contest

You’re screaming at me through the kitchen door
I’m not quite as pretty as the one before
Her ripped blue jeans keep staring at me
In trouble again for the way I clean

The neighbors complain every time we fight
And I’m not quite sure if I ever was right
He won’t throw away her damn blue jeans
Got the ghost of his ex in the house with me

You beg every time for another chance
Say you will change and be a better man
Can’t count the times that I’ve forgiven
Your endless lies and promises broken

Finally lit a match to those jeans of hers
Cracked a smile as I watched them burn
The flames turned a pretty shade of red
Almost the color of my favorite lipstick

Gathered my things and heard you shout
Mean angry words that I tuned out
Caught the first ride and waved goodbye
To those damn blue jeans and my old life