My Pink Satin Point Shoe (Poetry)

What was once a pink satin hue, laced with a feminine blush,

Is now a tired remembrance of what it once was. It lies

Tossed aside,

Forgotten and alone,

Silky ribbons strewn carelessly to the side,

Wrinkled from age and frayed from use,

Like limbs so weak they cannot muster the

Strength to lift.

It is an empty shell of the life it once brought to the stage.

A rosy lush that soaked up the warm stage lights,

Absorbing energy from audiences on edge.

Dripping Vibrancy,

Leaving behind a trace

– A memory –

Of a moment past.

Now the bottoms are stained black and the satin worn away,

The stiff sole still frozen in an arch

Yearning for a foot to slip inside,

Hoping to taste the stage one last time.

The inside of the shoe is soft and welcoming.

Ribbons held on with childlike stitches and

A haste revealing the dancer’s once sense of

Anticipation.

This shoe once laboured through many rehearsals,

But now the soft inside sole

Has snapped,

And the bottom is laced with

Blood.

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