Thank God, my shoes have no soul.
Otherwise I wouldn't be able to put them on.
Imagine
early morning, my shoes sleeping in the hall where I threw them off.
A slight purring coming from the easy heartbeat
quietly thumping in their chests.
Here I come, snatching them off the floorboards,
shoving my feet down their throats.
Holding the tongue with my fingers
gagging the mouth
as I roughly push my feet in all the way.
Then I stand.
Crushing the last vestige of life from my shoes.
Now I wear them around, parading them,
my poor unsuspecting recently dead shoes.
Mom should've gotten me the ones I asked for.
I hope her lesson has been learned.
No comments:
Post a Comment