She wore shoes
Shoes that fit on her feet
Shoes that went above her ankle
But did not exceed her mid calf
Shoes
The colour of night
Shoes the colour of onyx or ebony
Or an opaque shopping bag from a novelty sex shop
Where you'd be embarrassed if the general public saw its contents
They were black
The shoes
Were black
But not just black
They were shiny too
Not shiny in a polished leather kind of way
Not shiny like brand new wellies
They were shiny like diamonds
Along the threads that stitched them together were bands of shiny ribbon so bright
They made emeralds look like your typical cashier at Tesco
I'm talking dull
Which is what they weren't
They were so bright
You couldn't help but notice them when she walked by
These shoes were so bright
You would burn your eyes out to look at them too long
But you would want to look at them
Because they were perfect
They were flawless
They were such works of art
They didn't belong on her feet
They belonged at the Tate Modern
But what did she do with these works of art?
She wore them
She wore them like nobody could because they were hers
These shoes, from the tip of the toe to the back of the heel
From the bottom of the sole to the tops of the eyelets
They were hers
These shoes that would have traumatised a man with a serious foot fetish
They were hers
She wouldn't let anyone near them
These brilliant gems of foot apparel
These bright beacons that would have saved a thousand ships
From certain death on a rocky coast during a squall
These shoes that were made for walking just
As much as they were made for blinding
They were hers
I don't even know if she took them off for bed
Whatever she did
They were too precious for anyone to even touch
They had such long, lustrous laces
Threaded through such lovely eyes
Their soles didn't seem to touch the ground
And yet left intricate patterns in her wake
When I spoke to her
I couldn't help but let my eyes drift down to her feet
But one day, she waved goodbye
And all I could do was watch as those shoes walked out of my life
Forever