he slips into a pair
of her faded denim eyes
and she bats her big lashes
as the teeth of her
retina zipper come together
he tends to keep his hands
in her back pocket corneas
when he leans on his locker
to watch the pretty girls pass
a thousand washes
have left the frayed curvature
of her van gogh'd irisies
worn and perfectly distressed
she's his favourite pair
they're such a perfect fit
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