The first time I met you there were holes in your socks.
I was enchanted by the idea of a boy who loved something so hard it became threadbare.
If only I had known you would love me the same.
You walked over me as easily as you did the pavement, except I was not made out of concrete.
With each step you took my fabric stretched and even when I was worn you never stopped walking.
I became as valuable as pieces of frayed fabric except this time there was no replacement.
I couldn’t be fixed, there wasn’t enough of me left.
If only i had known you would love me the way you loved your socks.
Maybe then, I would have been whole.