your red shoes

slip into your red shoes.
you know the ones.
the ones that go with everything
but holding back
even a fraction
as they get traction on my heart
and I hear them even in the dark
even after your feet are no longer in them
even as I am lost within you
dreaming of the first time you
slipped into those red shoes.
when you walked all over me
metaphorically as I found myself
only admiring them as an excuse
to study further your elegant legs
and imagine what they would look like
from angles that red shoes might be
a bit out of place in
(but I am game if you are).

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

The self-portrait by Liza that inspired this poem can be viewed here