Laces

In the beginning, he made you.

I take a breath, watch you fold.

Make me regret living.

I never said such a thing.

I held your hand for the very first time,

And you said we were moving too fast

On a train to nowhere, I asked where we were going and you said

You liked fast.

You didn’t care about hair

Or clothes

Or school.

Instead you cared about what no one else did, what no one else could.

The laces of your shoes.

What a silly thing to fret over.

I never laugh at your pain and you tell me to take a walk when I’m in mine.

Dirty old sneakers, so beat in the front, they looked like the were made to kick the dust.

You said you ran.

From what?

From everything that you thought you could outrun, that’s why you worried about your laces.

They come to life, I can hardly believe you.

You show me and I refuse.

I hug you and hold you together

You spilling through your seams.

I tell you your laces are nice, you say they’re not new.

But who cares about image anymore?

I say I love you, I think.

You said you loved your laces more.