The student news site of Taylor County High School

Prom Shoes

By Miranda Blakeman, Writer of the Month

Miranda Blakeman, feature writer

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You built me into a home

With large, gaping windows

And a white picket fence,

And we were happy.

And the girls at school all wanted to be loved,

But were never really careful enough to get it right;

Everyone wanted salvation

But no one could salvage a thing.

 

You built me into a home

With doors wide open

And light that casted onto every surface,

And we were content.

And shiny chandeliers hung ornately from the ceiling,

Reflecting shapes and colors that danced onto fresh paint,

And everything was spotless;

But everyone was empty.

 

You built me into a home

But the roof leaked last fall,

And the pipes froze-over the following winter;

So you folded back the blinds

And started leaving on the weekends,

And everything was “just fine” if anyone asked,

And everyone knew it wasn’t fine

But never asked at all.

 

You built me into a home

But the words “I love you” never seemed to fit inside,

Only hang there without meaning

Like they already belonged to someone else.

And I finally heard the news that morning,

Last night’s prom shoes on the closet floor.

You were only ever a passerby at best — a house guest.

And I was never really happy at all.

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The student news site of Taylor County High School
Prom Shoes