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Your shoes

I remember wearing
your old big leather shoes—
tripping on the lagging chords
as I trudged around the living room,
feeling wise and powerful,
just like you.

I would run down the stairs,
tumble down a step or two.
Follow mom into the kitchen,
yell "honey I'm home"
only to find her weeping—
why'd you have to go?

I remember wearing
your old big leather shoes—
tripping on the lagging chords
as I trudged around the living room,
feeling wise and powerful,
just like you.

All I wanted was a happy home,
all you left were your filthy shoes.
Now you’re gone,
left us for some girl called cancer
mom says—
won’t you die already
you slut.

I remember wearing
your old big leather shoes—
tripping on the lagging chords
as I trudged around the living room,
feeling wise and powerful,
just like you once were.

If I think of you as the bad guy,
It hurts less.
So go away, let me be.
And take these shoes with you;
they will never fit me.

I remember wearing
your old big leather shoes—
tripping on the lagging chords
as I trudged around the living room.



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