when my feet felt so cold,
I tried on your slippers.
my toes tried to touch
each curve in the sole.
your house smelled like hot tea,
compost, and baking,
like books in the basement:
ink mixed with mold.
I'm sorry for trying to fit
in your slippers.
I'm sorry for trying
your warmth for my cold.
I left them behind
just how you first left them,
empty but knowing
your imprints would hold.
