The Shoes Pt. 2
The Shoes Pt. 2
My man’s shoes are in the clothing store
wedged in a box, shuffled among a sea
of other footwear boxes.
Except they’re not his shoes,
because his shoes had been carefully shuffled
into, dusted laces tied and rubber bottoms
pushed out the front door, all under my tracking
gaze. These are not his shoes,
but they’re almost his, that same pretty red
I’ve demanded he shares
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