Socks

A poem I wrote about my ex-girlfriend; it's about feeling like you have to change the core of who you are to love someone.

I told you once  

With a laugh still in my throat 

That if you wanted to be with me, 

You had better start matching my socks. 

 

You turned and said,  

“At least I’m folding your laundry,” 

Like I had never helped you with a thing before, 

Like that’s not what love was.  

 

I asked you once  

To be good to her, 

To which you said 

“Please don't try to change me.” 

I could have looked past the socks if you hadn’t said that.  

 

I gave up trying to change you a long time ago,  

And that’s when I started changing myself. 

My voice got mean, 

And the songs stopped being beautiful, 

And I never had the same two socks on both my feet.  

 

Now 

Slowly 

Each time I do a load of laundry 

The socks fall 

Back 

Into 

Pairs 

As the leaves fall down from the trees, 

And I look at them like the artwork they are, 

And every song 

Is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.  

 

I’m sorry I let you go, 

But I’m not sorry that my socks match; 

I’m not sorry that my life has fallen back into place.