To my shoes:
Just keep telling yourself everything will be fine, while the fabric of your being decays around you at a rate that you can see. Your self, a pair of boots, distinguished scuffs of challenges faced go on to become points of vulnerability. That worn and experienced sole flexing over the sharp, gripping the slippery, not showing the stresses of wear until water, the stiff breeze, count you as a barrier no longer. What was lost in permeability is made up for in comfort, until that ratio inverts. The wear was stylish, the memory of the roads walked were fond, but now the toes are showing, and the charms of a long journey together become the insults of a premise you can no longer uphold. The covenant broken. Time now for the back of the closet or the dump. Tell yourself it will be fine, go ahead.