Walked-Through Stories

They sat, forgotten, beneath the bed,

scuffed leather breathing quiet tales.

Worn thin where the sole met street—

those miles to nowhere, every step a crack,

sharp-edged memories folded in worn laces.

Walked through the noise of fading love,

through long nights that tangled with dawn,

scuffed in the places where hope slipped,

treading hard on the moments that broke,

shoes heavy with the weight of unspoken goodbyes.

Now I hold them, dust on the tongue,

a quiet confession of every step

that pushed me forward

and every mile that made me stop.