My mind remembers the times
when I took you to secret places
when I shoved secrets down your throat
and when I forced you to
listen in as deals were brokered.

My mind recalls the times
when I made you to join me
in feeling sad
when I visited the ailing
or attended funerals.

My mind recollects the times
when I spoiled your mood
after looking up
to see me dressed shabbily
and bombarding your eyes with
colours that didn’t match
on top and under.

My mind forgets not
the many views, sounds, and lies
that I made you endure
when I took you to public places
and some not so public places
such as restrooms.

Ooh how can my mind forget
what sadness
I must have taken you through
those times when I was lonely
because life was not
treating me so well;

How can my mind forget
how harshly I treated you
during my joyful moments
as I danced and celebrated
my happiness away.

Notwithstanding those experiences with me
I can’t thank you enough
because never once did you complain
never once did you divorce me:
my old, shiny, loving shoes.

My mind remembers clearly
all the times
when I took you
to the doctor, the cobbler,
after taking you to places
where they treated you violently.

My mind has no idea
why it took so long, until now
to get it that your vantage point
has been a place or position
that affords you a good and clear view
of everything that
I do, see, hear, smell, taste, or touch.

My mind, however, flashes back
to the many times
when you looked disappointed
to meet each other, as shoes,
because of the thought that
I would make you do things
that you didn’t like.

My mind can hardly forget also,
how jealous you became
when I brought in a new pair
which was skinnier than you.
Your revenge was instant,
you blackmailed the new pair
to create furnace-like conditions in there
that made the toes sweat profusely
and caused bunions and blisters to sprout
out of the screaming toes
until they begged for forgiveness.

Regardless of all
My mind now knows enough
not to take you for granted again;

my old, shiny, loving shoes.

I am an epic introvert, who quickly becomes an open book when I pen what’s in my significantly fertile mind; fertile as a result of bombardment by realities that are continuously captured by my inquisitive eyes, ears which are constantly rubbing the ground, through constant reading, and through dreaming too.

Writing provides an opportunity to ‘say’ what my unapologetic quiet mouth will not say; which not only soothes me, but also bequeaths to me a relief, a release, and a hope that the written words will change the world, even if only one person at a time.

And so should you seek, that’s where to find me; deeply tucked inside the blankets of reading, seeing, listening, dreaming, and then writing.

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