Whether she, he, or beast, one notices a woman in a fine pair of heels. I wrote, The Countess with Her Whip, because when I slip my feet into a high, high pair of heels, I like the way it feels. I don't do it for YOU, I do it for me. Heels are one of the forgotten pleasures that says more than nice legs!
“You put high heels on and you change” - Manolo Blahnik
The Countess with Her Whip
I don’t wear high heels for YOU—
I choose to wear them to own my
balanced position on a three inch heel,
which is six inches combined. I am
suggesting my seductive gate,
allowing me to just stroll
right above your opinion.
Those heels YOU gaze at have
been following me
since Hellenic times.
I have been waiting, just
waiting, for my adorned foot to slip
into my soft leather shoe that
erects my attitude. It fosters my
female emancipation. It
demands I put on high, high heels.
And my feet slip in, snug and fit,
and I stand and I feel my calves
pump up with fertility and
my pointy heels dig in and I
can’t deny the phallic nature.
I don’t wear high heels for YOU.
I have on stilettos and I know my
heels are glancing up at my Achilles,
strongly cupping my calf and I know
YOU are looking at my shoes as you walk
behind me, and YOU are mesmerized
by the red soles glimmering.
Impervious to the slings and arrows,
words and accusations,
desires and images--
I don’t wear high heels for YOU,
darling, I wear
armored patent leather stilettos,
black stilettos that make my
aesthetics sleek and pleasing,
slender and toned, like
I am walking on a perfect quest
to own my powerful womanhood.
perhaps fifty percent of me
might wear high heels for YOU.