ode to your dirty shoes

to my favorite bun in my favorite city

to the hair tied up carelessly, function far outweighing fashion, flawlessly

to you, my favorite playlist writer and dream chaser.

to the dancer in the elevator

to the breakfast believer

to the sunflower with the most beautiful face I know.

to you, scuffed shoes that used to be white

that used to be white, that now barely remember what that word means

to you, you who barely remember what that word means

barely remember being clean.

to you, who has stood through all the mud with me

to you is this song written. to you, who wonders with me

who watches with me

who bends and breaks and bruises with me.

to you, the friend, the life who’s universe spins independently of mine.

how easily I forget that your universe spins independently of mine.

how easily I forget there is any universe but mine.

to the hearts who care about mine.

to the minds who dare to look after mine

to the universes that shift

and reconfigure

around mine

to your dirty shoes, and to mine-

may you remember the mud you’ve come through

and feel loved for all you’ve stood through

even if I

forget

to tell you.