Shoes
by Ryan Stark
You left your shoes by my door.
I've never touched them.
They laze around, like the unwanted guests they are,
still tied from the last time you slipped them off
and told me you'd be back next week.
They're quite unsightly, your shoes.
They're still caked with dirt.
You stepped in mud walking off my driveway
and even though you apologized for dirtying the porch
you never really helped clean it.
Flowers are drawn on their soles.
You were bored in class.
One of them is lopsided and its ink is smeared
because I texted while you were drawing
and you were startled because it was me.
And when you left me that night,
you didn't say bye.
Wearing only your blue socks, you huffed out
to your mom who came later than you wanted
because she was making dinner.
The next day, you called me late.
You couldn't wait a week.
You wanted good terms and moving on
but if your shoes still sit by my door,
how have you left?
I've never touched them.
They laze around, like the unwanted guests they are,
still tied from the last time you slipped them off
and told me you'd be back next week.
They're quite unsightly, your shoes.
They're still caked with dirt.
You stepped in mud walking off my driveway
and even though you apologized for dirtying the porch
you never really helped clean it.
Flowers are drawn on their soles.
You were bored in class.
One of them is lopsided and its ink is smeared
because I texted while you were drawing
and you were startled because it was me.
And when you left me that night,
you didn't say bye.
Wearing only your blue socks, you huffed out
to your mom who came later than you wanted
because she was making dinner.
The next day, you called me late.
You couldn't wait a week.
You wanted good terms and moving on
but if your shoes still sit by my door,
how have you left?
Ryan Stark's poem won for the state of Maryland in the 12th grade Young Author's contest for poetry