The Soles of Our Shoes
Was I an idiot? Was I an idiot for believing you when you said you wouldn't take my heart and tear it into little pieces, as you crushed it into the concrete with the black soles of your shoes? Was I an idiot for letting you shoot me in the back when I turned to walk away from it all? Maybe it was all my fault and you're not to blame. Should I have taken it standing? Sitting down? But I chose to take it as I walked away from you, slowly placing one foot in front of the other as you insisted on tripping me on my way out. As I stared at the door only three more steps away from me, I turned around as I saw the barrel of your gun pressed into my forehead. Slowly the tear rolled down my cheek and onto your shoe as I saw your finger pull the trigger and my life became as dark as your soul.