THREE INCHES HIGHER

My toes are squeezed tight

And the heels calloused, blistered

Every step stung like a hundred little knives

Plunging deep into the skin

Breaking tissues to part from my feet

Thirty more steps and I think I will break

These trusty limbs that make me human

But no, I didn’t break or fall,

 I feel my calves toning,

 muscles pulling every walk

My feet on fire but blisters don’t impede me

I’m a cripple, I know.

But I don’t let you see me that way.

I’m three inches higher, mightier and

I have paid the price, no matter how high

Because women are for high heels like

men are for socks, comfort is ugly

pain is beauty.

I’m not walking on clouds, no

The path is full of thorns and nails

‘Don’t break, don’t fall, you’re almost there,

that’s home you see’, 

my blisters are singing,

my feet dancing,

 for once I walk 

the last ten steps like a cripple

Home is where I can be three inches shorter.

Author's Note

Amateur. Be kind. On second thought, be harsh and critical.

Reviews

[Mr. Lopez]

I thought it cool that your turned something as torturous as wearing high heels into a poem. Creative for sue. Nicely done.

[Raven Wyntermoon]

The continuous battle of beauty and the sacrifices that one must make to fulfill the need of self satisfaction and acceptance.
Favorite Line: Home is where I can be three inches shorter.
Title and ending line is a great juxtaposition.

[Cyprian Van Dyke]

Strong read, I mean, powerful read. You have a way with words. I could feel so much reading this poem. :)

[JordanBaker]

Thanks Van for the appreciation. :)

[Cyprian Van Dyke]

You're very welcome!