Shoe Fetish

I’m so tired and feel so old.  My once clean and pristine exterior has faded and wrinkled.  I can’t do the things I used to, and my partner has begun to notice.  Hell, if someone took care of me and kept me from landing in shit all the time, I would look better than I did fresh out of the box.  I remember that day…the first time my laces were tied.  I’ve never seen my laces so clean and so bright than I did that day.

I’m still sporting those laces.  Oh, what I’d do for a fresh pair of bright, white laces…not that it would make me look any better, but at least I would feel better.  I woke up this morning, and she had new laces.  She gets whatever she wants.  I know she’s been hanging with that dirty, work boot in the closet.  I bet he stole them from some helpless tennis shoe for her.

She gets so much attention.  All these young guys moving into the closet make me nervous.  Just because their tongues are new and their soles spotless, that makes them better than me?  I have something none of them have.  I’m broken in, and none of them will be as comfortable as I have been for the last few years.  Ah, who am I kidding?  No amount of comfort can overcome good looks and flashy features.  I don’t even get to sleep in the closet anymore.  Master just throws me anywhere.  Last night I slept in the mouth of his pet Rottweiler.  I’m still saturated in the stench of her drool.

I remember the nights her and I would never sleep.  Master would take us out walking all night.  We’d make love during the day, tongues tangled and soles together
forever…or so it seemed.  Ever since the accident she hasn’t looked at me the same.  One night we were all out on one of our walks and I tripped.  I usually never misstep, but that night I tripped on a branch in the park and blew a hole near Master’s big toe.  Now, the hole has grown as big as the hole in my soul.

I can feel my fate fast approaching.  Soon I’ll be given away, or worse yet, not even worthy of donation and just thrown in the trash, but wherever I end up, she’ll be with me.

I’d like to see her try and leave.  She can’t make it without me.  Hell, I can’t make it without her.  How can I resist her when she’s so much like me?  She’s the epitome of comfort and beauty.  She deserves a better shoe, but we’re a pair, and I don’t care how much she torments me or how much shit I have to walk through.  I’ll walk through it all with her, and I’ll be happy.

The end is near now.  I’ve heard talk of paying a visit to Goodwill and The Salvation Army – the graveyard for all things worn and broken.  I don’t regret the path I’ve taken…we’ve taken.  Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever hill we might climb in the morning and whatever dumpster we find ourselves in that evening, I’ll be with her: my eternal soul mate.