december 11, 2017
A N C I E N T
white sneakers
stained with dried blood and dirt,
an unerasable past embedded into each step.
loose laces
frayed into mere threads
drag upon the ground,
yet too short to be tugged under.
riddled with holes,
eaten away by age,
what's left wraps around
unmoving ankles.
YOU ARE READING
LIMN
Poetryrepainting my world with the words silently formed by my rose-dipped lips. • 972 in poetry
