Prada Shoes

Prada Shoes

We’ve always experienced a certain polarity between us, you and me.

The kind of polarity that creates a wee spark, which then erupts into a hot flame. Physically we’ve always been dissimilar, but then all men and women are; and well, then there’s the subject of emotional resonance and the fact that you’d scoff if I told you I’m going to write poetry about you – the feel of you, not just you sliding all over me and into me, but just the feel of you.

Poetry. You’d hate mine. Potlucks, group music, all that my life trajectories toward, like a little catapult of burning molten love at the world in general. All the words and movements that come into me, reminding me of you, would push you away.

I love this polarity. My empire versus your empire.

You always look so tidy, so good. Makes me hungry. The right shoes, the right smell, the right eyes, the right hands. I like to be mute in your presence even though you make me chatty. I want you to take me shopping, make me look as good as you, lead me around on an invisible leash. Dress me up or down in whatever way ignites you, in whatever moment, make me pretty and neat, and then make a total mess of me. Take my clothes off slowly and put me in something of your choosing. Tie me up and go out for coffee. Come back and do all the things to me.

I’ll just look at you, meanwhile, with my eyes that love you.

You make me want to eat everything in sight, when you’re near. You make sure I have oysters on my plate, and watch me eat them one by one.

You fight me off with jokes.

Simpatico. Your body, your arm round my body in the dead of night, I trust you in my sleep.

I barely even played with you that time, lover of mine. So much more to do, between us, me and you.

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