velcro, lightup, plastic with holes.

this drought of unshared thoughts and bird's-eye view moments must come to an end.
when i read your struggles and thoughts,
i can see your room with it's tear-stained carpet,
your memory flickering like a candle,
your anger burning past your boiling point,
and your suffering put into words that don't really fit.
why do we wander?
why words?
for now i suppose, i will assure you with mine,
though no one will ask how i wander myself.


we fade with times that no longer fit us,
life now is like a favorite old shoe.
we've walked in it for miles, sweat in it, breathed in it.

but now, it is too small, my friends.
too small to wear.
so we'll tie the laces one last time,
then put it in a box under our beds.

they will still be there tommorrow,
and the next day,
and the next.
the shapes of our feet still lie in the padding.
but there are more miles to walk, now.

leave the shoes.
walk barefoot.
it's summer,
afterall.