literature

Shoe Polish

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lifeeternal13's avatar
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Literature Text

My saddle shoes click together in perfect symmetry, like a photograph waiting to be taken of a little Catholic school girl in a big, bright place. The linoleum blinds me.

"It's tragic," My voice strikes me as cold and curt, like an ice cube stuck to my tongue, "how utterly disenchanted I am with you."

I say this with my eyes on my feet with their flawless geometry. My downcast gaze has nothing to do with fear or meekness. My eyes are just bored with looking at you.

I've been longing to do only that for months. I just wanted to look at you, because your beauty radiates like supernovas - destructive and brilliant and inevitable.

But, now that I'm standing in front of you, my eyes dislike you. But, so does the rest of me.

"What do you mean?" It would be adorable how confused you sound if your tongue knew something other than fallacies and confectioner's sugar.

I don't answer, tilting my head a little to the side to admire the way your black-and-white shoes match my black-and-white shoes. I want to scuff them.

I get off on having private conversations in public places. I'm deciding if this even qualifies as a "private" conversation. I consider, for a moment, telling you I wanted you to fuck me, just to make those black-and-white feet shift in discomfort, but I figure it wold be best to keep that to myself for now. Maybe that would have mattered in November, when I wore a hoodie to meet you outside my house. But, now it's January, and I'm wearing a blazer, and the "us" died with the rest of the growing things.

And, I can only compare you to clothes because clothes remind me of superficiality and time, remind me that things do happen that fit on my calendars - even the "us" that never really had a chance to flower before your pesticide killed it.

"What do you mean?" I like it when you repeat yourself. It keeps me focused.

I look up at you, take in that pretty face of yours one last time, and kick my foot out to touch yours. As I turn away, I smile in the satisfaction of knowing I left an ugly black scuff on your pretty white shoe.
1.16.08

Characters: Layla and Adam

Very, very, VERY fun and satisfying to write.
This is fiction, but I wish it wasn't.
© 2008 - 2024 lifeeternal13
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rai-rai-raygun's avatar
"and the "us" died with the rest of the growing things."

I absolutely loved that! Great work!