Poem: A love letter to my perfectly boring ballet flats

You beauty.
You beauty.
Image: Reuters/Jon Nazca
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You’ve been courting me for years

with promises of stability and comfort. I rejected you

for fears

of losing my wild identity, growing older,

losing the respect of my peers

I just couldn’t bring myself to seek solace in you.


But oh, ballet flats. I was a fool.

I didn’t need heels to be my tool, to make me thinner or to make me a winner,

you let me be me

you get me where I need to be

without pain or strain or a drain on my wallet

you let me explore my own fashion palette and march to my own beat.


Once I accepted you into my life

I haven’t missed the struggle and strife

of wasting time, reason and rhyme, with crippling myself.

Sure, I may flirt from time to time with an Amazonian heel

because I sometimes like the way they make me feel

and chime with wedding bells in the background

or a party where I want to astound people because it’s a special occasion.


You are beautiful, my ballet flats.

People may find you boring, not worth exploring

because you don’t scream for attention or get a mention in the fashion pages of Vogue.

Who cares? I don’t.

You made me realize that those opinions are all just noise and I don’t need to gain power and poise from a shoe.

You’re just you and you let me be me

and if society has an issue,

because it thinks a heel makes you better at a job or make you look more hot

then lets just stay together and show the world what we’ve got.