There's something to be said about a worn-down, tattered pair of shoes.
There's something to be said about not being able to let them go,
even if you know you should. they are not dirty or falling apart in
my glazed over eyes. They are chosen often; loved well. They are my
favorite, maybe even my comfort pair.
There's something to be said about a weary person, their soul being tired.
There's something to be said about not being able to let them go even
if you know you should. See, I cling to you like my favorite pair of shoes.
You need a minute to catch your breath? I'll turn back the clocks so
you get five. Do you need some time in nature? I'll bring you through the trees
to a hidden cove of my heart made just for you. The crispest air and the brightest sun
peeking through the trees, the sweetest aroma and the warmest hot spring.
You need to scream until your lungs give out? Here you can do so as I hold you,
whispering words of sweet honey.
What do you need? What do you need? What do you need?
This is not asked with toxicity, but with a tenderness reserved just for you.
More of a, "What can I do for you? How can I care for your bleeding wounds
when you keep picking at the scabs trying their best to form?"
As I wait patiently wearing my faded-out shoes that you've told me to
let go of time and time again. It's never been about the shoes, has it?
It was all the same as you telling me to let go of you, too. Only,
I can't. I don't think you understand what's going on here.
I don't think you understand that I love you with a love only
you bring out in me. A love that consumes my soul and ignites
my bones.
You think you're not worth my time. Well, didn't you hear,
my dear, I set back time for you. I'd set back all the clock in the world
to get extra time with you. You don't believe me and that's okay, for now.
You don't understand that I love you much like the little flowers that
peek through the moss filled cracks in the sidewalk, Love the earth.
I know what you're thinking, "they get trampled all day." And sure
they do. Yet, they come back to greet us time and time again, don't they?
I will always love you this way. When your mind creates its footprint, trampling
on your beautiful flowers that have worked so hard to appear through the moss
filled cracks, I will hold you up. My words; the sun in the chill cold air, strong
enough to reach the once vibrant flowers and ease them into a gentle restoration.
YOU ARE READING
Paracosm
Poetry{PAR-uh-kahz-um} (n.) A detailed imaginary world created in the mind, often as a means of escape or solace, filled with its own people, places, and stories. | this book is quite the contrast. I shared my thoughts a really long time ago. I'll start...
