Friday, 11 September 2015

Dainty feet

I can walk on a tightrope
Eighty feet higher than my five-feet-one
I can look down
And smile for the photographers.

I can walk on stilettos
After nine tequilas and unprecedented giggling
I can look at the traffic lights
And mind the unexpected puddles.

I can walk into interviews
Strutting my 'interpersonal skills' and all that jargon
I can read their lips
And their eyes and their minds.

Darling, I only wish I could
Walk away just as dispassionately
After all this time that I have
Let you walk all over me.

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