Pink Ballet Slippers

A semi-fictional poem (you heard me) inspired by a contest prompt.

My pink ballet
Slippers
the right toe
worn down slightly
more than the
left: I could never
stop favoring
that side
My pink ballet
Slippers
the insides
discolored, darkened by
sweat and by
tears when my feet would
cry and beg me
to stop
to rest and the
tears from my
eyes when
I did
My pink ballet
Slippers
tiny pieces of gravel
lodged in the
outer soles from
the only time I
dared wear them out
of the studio
from the
last time I ever
wore them
running home
running away from
the realization that
I’d never be quite
good enough.
My pink ballet
Slippers
too small
now for me to
wear them but
sometimes I
slide in just the
tips of my
feet and
twirl on my
right toes until
I fall.