I have stolen your shoes
You wore them laced up and elegant
down below feathers 
Sewn loosely onto black sequins
and I am dreaming of smokey
mirrors behind your turning head
and silhouetted lips over the rim
of your iced highball
I have stolen your shoes
that you so carelessly kicked off
and left on the side of the stage
just under the fraying curtain’s shadow
and i am dreaming of the small arch
you paint on the splintering floor
with your stocking toes 
painted in crimson beneath black mesh
I have stolen your shoes
and headed out the back door where
I sit on a milk crate made of wire
and try them on before scuffling away in pain.