I could have written a lot more about this prompt, “if you were to walk a mile in my shoes”, but the poem already felt over by the last line, and I’m not one to belabor a point.
If you were to walk a mile in my shoes,
(gold ballerina slippers)
you’d know the reason I make the crude jokes,
the dark humor you hate.
When I tell you “I love you”,
you’d understand the hesitance to my tones.
When we make love & I tremble,
you’d hold me tighter because it wasn’t always love.
Sometimes, it was about power.
Sometimes, it was about sex.
And sometimes, when I cry and I can’t tell you why,
just hold me.
That’s all it takes to calm the demons,
to slay the dragons.