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He bought her sandals.
The best ones she ever had.
They were hers and
she loved them.

She was the barefoot
kind of girl.

It came to her
that he had laid a path
for her to tread upon
by gifting her with shoes..

It was up to her
to take the first step.
And to keep walking.

On land
Across the sky
And through the mind.

Keep walking
until the time comes
to stand still again.

To take off the sandals
and feel grass underfoot.
I forgot my broken sandals at the home of somebody special and he bought me a new pair.
Her lips and her eyes

Like an ocean's summer breeze

Pure captivation
Her restless feet,
take her somewhere;
where she can finally meet
the sky and the ocean.
For years she've been waiting;
barefoot wanderer longing for
sand and sea salt,
sunsets by the shore.
Carmen Jane Mar 14
What was she thinking,
Running in nightgown,
Barefoot?!
Trying to catch you
To call you back,
So you can check
For the second time,
Who behind the walls
Was lurking...
Didn't she know
That your car goes fast?
What was she thinking,
Screaming aloud,
Waking up neighbors
Only to hide,
Behind their black curtains.
Didn't she know
That you were too far?
You couldn't hear her
Cause your poor ears
Were still ringing
With her earlier shivers...
You couldn't comprehend
What you just saw,
In your decieving
Rareview mirrors…

Your timeline events
Now start to blend
In front of your eyes,
Because you're a second away
From a train crash.
Hannah Wallace Dec 2018
(noun)
--A dock in the sea at which boats may anchor

That's the definition Google gave
But if you ask me,
Google doesn't know ****

Because no matter how many pages
I've searched
Or links that I've clicked
Google can never tell me how many times
you've made me laugh
more genuinely
than I thought myself capable

No algorithm can pinpoint
how many hours we spent on that
front porch swing
covered by empty Barefoot bottles
letting our heels sink in awe
of the world we had in front of us

Trust me that no "I'm Feeling Lucky" button
could ever lead me up the steps of
that little apartment
where i learned that your
dollar store pasta,
simple as it may,
will always be my favorite

And may it
not by God or some invisible hand
be the reason i believe in fate

You.

Always my North Star,
together you and I make
a really ****** compass.
But then again we've never held
trust to anything but our guts
to tell us we are
heading in the right directions.

And so many directions we have taken,
to think all the conversations
we've held about
the places we'd end up
were just the billboards
we didn't know we were passing

Okay--maybe Google's definition wasn't so far off then.
You my friend are more than just a season
You are the life, and the warmth, and the beauty
of our favorite June night
even in the dead of winter
The fog on the windows of your house
are reminders of every breath that has escaped you, every
breath you'll never be able to catch
every breath you have stolen

Enough to heat a home.

So i know that no matter how rough the waters
or smooth my ocean's floor,
I, my lonely ship,
know I can always have a place to anchor

Marina.
Jo Barber Nov 2018
I remember how the floor felt on my feet.
Cold and bare,
I walked the halls at night
for a warm glass of milk
before bed.
You were always up,
and surprised I was, too.
I liked your crooked nose
and your too-big teeth.
You taught me beauty -
how little and how much it matters.

I liked the way the floor felt those days,
cold against my bare feet.
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