Dress Shoes

Nice black shoes, I’m sorry I’ve abused you,
wearing down your soles and your soul like I’ve
had to. You were comfortable for a
while, but lately I feel like you hate me,
make me regret not getting something more
sensible. You’re well broken in (and down),
but that’s the problem: after all my years
of loyalty, I’d expect you to still
be supporting me, not tearing at my
heels and ignoring me when I beg you
to comfort more of me. Pretty soon I’ll have
to move on, or give you away, and then you’ll
miss me, my clean feet, the safety of a
closet, when you’re on the streets, homeless, gone.

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