you walk the streets in the same boots
as her and she and them.
the cheaper version? maybe, sure.
but they are the same.
and instead of feeling in, fit, one of . . .
you feel invisible, faded, the boots tight and getting tighter.
you want to be apart not a part.
you don’t need new shoes . . .
you need the worn-in friends that let you walk that fine line.
that balance you and them.
you put your feet up at the end of the day,
not in their boots,
but in your home.