I found a pocket in a woman’s denim and it bought me immense joy…

I found a pocket in a woman’s denim and it bought me immense joy…

Destroying all my feminist oaths…

In the midst of searching for stigmas to destroy…

I rather settled for a moment with clothes…

As my thumb and index finger finally held a stich in between…

My fingers rested upon a cuddle, meticulously weaved…

My skin feeling threads, I had only once just seen…

Finally, a moment where I wasn’t deceived…

And as it cheered for me as I took a stride with a “manly” posture…

With a pocket that no longer could only fit a lipstick or a penny…

I wondered if hiding her hand is all a woman needs to conquer…

As I giggle at my old “women’s pants”, that robbed many…

Robbed of this moment of walking with pride…

Memories, odes and joy in her pockets, tucked in…

Away from all those stitches that made her hide…

All that caged her as extra inches of skin…

It’s rather funny how creativity subtly trespasses its limits…

As a whimsical reality confides…

It’s rather funny how all that was needed to liberate a woman’s spirit…

Was to stitch a fabric shut from 3 sides…