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Gloomed and ashen as the sky, yet
soft and creased as a reptile.
Similar in texture
and so very different.
A pair for my feet
and just that alone.
Matching solemn laces,
entwined to hold
the two diverse sides.
Which are layered and laid
upon the tongue who's mouth
engulfs my feet.
He might be my savior,
for he keeps my hidden tan line a secret.
Although I wear the skinniest of jeans,
whom of which show my figure.
I am more grateful to my boots,
for they keep a mouthful of my reveries hidden.
Concealed within the sole,
the first gum to ruin my contemporary style.
Between the stitches,
the au courant of my image.
Woven into the laces,
the signs of my recent jaunts.
Yet, above all my boots tell my story.
An entourage of which I've created,
and of which is my own reminiscence.
I am nothing without something so ostentatious.
The presence of these vintage gray boots
show the world that I am uniquely different.
Merely a statement incognito,
that is what these boots are.
For them to be upon my feet, really
is just the story of my life.
 iElectronica · Sat Oct 29, 2011 @ 01:43am · 0 Comments |
