The Shoes

The shoes were
Candy apple red
Shining like fresh paint on a hotrod
With heals as high as a dopamine rush
I had to have them


And as often happens
When all things are possible
And I can conquer the world
Let alone a pair of high heels,
I bought them.


To match the shoes
I bought lipstick and nail polish
And new earrings
That I will never wear –
Time getting ready takes longer and longer
Today no exception
Connection from legs to brain
Controlling my feet, impossible for now


My vison of gliding gracefully into the room
Starts to fade, along with the idea to dance the night away.


The wall now dented and marked
The shoes scuffed from being thrown at the wall
And they glare at me from across the room
As if saying we didn’t do anything
Don’t blame this on us.


Used by permission of the author.

Grace Heim

Marketing professional and Parkinson bad-ass, Grace Heim uses her creative side as a form of therapy. Writing, photography and dabbling ...more