Heavy shoes

I have to admit: I'm sick of this charade—wearing shoes that don't quite fit. They were never meant to be mine in the first place, yet I try and I try to make them the right size. Instead, the empty spaces between skin and suede amplify the squelch of these awkward attempts to move forward. My, my; don't these shoes feel heavy.

Where is joy? Where is weightlessness? Where is freedom? Where is hope?

Discouraged by the weight of what the world expects, I bear the burden of these doleful soles; this wanton destiny. How unnecessary.

My heart pulls me towards lost loves: music, dance, drama, art, writing. How I wish to find my way back.

"Come to me—just come to me."