Of First Loves and High Heel Shoes

“First loves are high-heeled shoes,” he says. “They affect flesh and spirit—straighten spines, tighten thighs, make you walk like you own the galaxy. Your first changes you forever. No other will ever make you feel like I did.”

I watch him,

remember myself

wrapped in him.

“Once,” I tell him, “the sight of you pulled little moans out of my middle. The memory of us (skin-to-skin), your scent… made me want. But I don’t lust after the way I used to feel inside your body. First shoes are just shoes—perfect (once), but irrelevant after they no longer fit.”

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the wee notes…
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to enjoy interesting tales. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have written about my old shoes.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, where our sweetest Sanaa invites us to write about love, using a common everyday image.

 

My Reason for Birthday Wishes

I love
how you crush every one
of my toes
until my bones squeal
for release.

You are my reason
for birthday wishes. I see you
(always you) when I blow
candles that sing
“High-heeled shoes are magic!”

But time is birthing rust
inside my joints. There are creaks
in my knees, dreaming of wild
nights brightened
by high-heeled-shoe-
arson
and maniacal laughter.

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a wee note:
– No high-heeled shoe was set on fire during the crafting of this poem. But there might have been a choked maniacal cackle or three.

linked to:
– The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Bits of Inspiration ~ Shoes).
– Sanaa’s Prompt Nights (Round hour of dawning blush, come blow me a Wish)

red-boots

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