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why we wear stilettos

April, 2017

late at night i see

chalky red skin and pointed teeth

these days 

these days have been bitter days.

they taste sharp i-bit-the-inside-of-my-cheek-and-the-result-is-so-salty-and-sore kind of days.


these days,

i want for nothing more than to leap into the limp arms

of all these clear-eyed strangers

and impose all expression of hurt upon their indifference

wiggling inside of them, rocking back and forth

punching out their insides

redecorating its slimy, unlovely walls.

my interior smut paint job.

clipping on stilettos i can not claim to own —

the ones with red on the bottom

shiny black on top.

clip, clip,

stomp, stomp.

jabbing little holes into the inside folds.

i can do this because i am on the inside.

there’s one girl i know.

she has stilettos, too.

her skin is a chalky red color.

it covers something she doesn’t want people to see.

she spent some time wandering in a spiritual land

and she meditates weekly and she does yoga daily

in lulu lemon leggings, usually with patterns,

and she likes to talk progressive

like about privilege and intersectionality

and to ask questions that begin with what is it like to

and she’s usually pretty ok about it all

but today she told me, 

smiling to reveal the pointed tips of her teeth,

i’m just too happy to care.

her eyes cleared a little, i swear.

i stared at her for a minute

as my internal organs succumbed to gravity

i removed the heels, lowering my feet to the ground

the red soles were covered in sticky goop.

i didn’t need them anymore.

i watched a documentary for a class once

in which a trans woman once

told me, not giving a fuck is the greatest privilege of all

in the corner of my notebook

i scribbled this down

but i never shared those words with anyone.

i guess they scared me too much.

late at night i see

chalky red skin and pointed teeth.

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