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By Darwin Date: 2003 Aug 25 Comment on this Work [[2003.08.25.15.15.20959]] |
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I hate my shoes. My plain Jane, black shoes, with open toes, and worse for wear lining. I hate where they have taken me, down the lonely roads, and heartbreaking hotel rooms, and sagging mattresses. I hate the miles they have traveled, and the men they have seen the men they have casually slipped off my foot to be with. Sometimes They even Stayed On. It's not the streaky black mascara that runs down my face, whether the rain or tears carry the color. It's not the chipped red nail polish that lingers on my cracked nails, and the dirt that lies embedded in my skin; a constant flush of brown black gravel on my body. It's these shoes; they don't carry me anymore. I have the callused soles and toes to show for it. I have lines around my eyes, and my hands, are brown and aging. My voice has grown deeper, like Katherine Hepburn. I now have gravel running through my vocal cords. You can hear the pebbles wading through water when I speak. I am a dirt road, that travels an endless path, and my feet are bloody from wear. So watch your feet and your toes, and those nails with the riddled lines of nail polish showing through the dirt. Watch them as they fall down the years and miles of life. As they walk in those old plain shoes you never thought you would be rid of. Those lines of times as they etch their words across your skin, and leave echoes in your footsteps. Watch them as you leave pieces of rubber behind, until you are naked and bare. Nothing but skin as the tread wears down, and what it comes down to, are the two feet that leave you standing. |