Socks

I have never liked socks

If I don't wear shoes 

I'm not wearing socks

I do not sleep with socks on

And I do not know how it would even work

If you sleep with your socks on

It's likely I will never fully understand you 

My socks never match

Because I stopped caring 

about taking the time 

to make them do so

Socks were never my thing 

Because they wore out too fast

Turn black upon the first step outside

And the feeling of worn out thick socks 

on calloused feet was like 

wearing a coat inside 

an uncomfortably hot room 

I never liked their texture

Or the line over the toes where they are stitched up

I would cry when I was younger because the line was on the wrong part of my foot when I put shoes on

And my poor mother would have to untie my shoes take them off straighten my socks and start all over. But it never sit just right.

When I got older I'm convinced 

my parents bought me socks two sizes too big 

And the end always flopped over 

And my dad always said 

I had a smurf hat on the end of my toes

And maybe 

that was my mother's response 

to my strong hate 

for the line across the toes of my socks

Maybe that would stop it from touching me

And keep it out of mind 

And maybe it worked 

because eventually I grew into those socks 

And eventually I learned to live with it

And now I have lost almost all the matches to my socks 

or have been forced to throw them away 

due to the fact that they were full of holes

And even when I see a matching pair 

Right in front of me 

something makes me 

pick up only one of them

And then dig to find another

I think I gave up on perfection

The moment I learned to live 

with the lines 

across the toes 

of my socks

photography by ~me

socks and shoes owned by ~me

feet~not mine

i'm taking this chance to thank my mom because she posed for this for like 10 minutes and that is a long time to stand still.