Shoes
Not really about shoes
By a trick of light, I see me I see the poet, the slut, the storyteller the liar, the lover romantic and obsessed, the part-time whore The stressed mother, deciding how far money will go and what she can do without herself Frantic, anxious, numb Anorexia and ice cream I see guilt and triumph, burnt letters, pettiness, revenge, anger that eats away smiles Long, open legs spread wide, leading smoothly to my cunt, wet and wa...