Our footsteps took us past the hotel I dreamed us in, me in my night blue-and-white jasmine-print dress, flowers even printed on my Converse. We didn’t go in. It was all normal. But it was all true. It was all true.
its like i could always hear them in the back of my mind, footsteps, always there, never getting closer or further. it was a while before i realized they were mine. i was always in your shadow, unable to catch up. always chasing but also never moving
FOOTSTEPS IS WHAT WE TAKE IN NUMBERS TO COVER LIFES LENGTHY PATH. OUR FOOTSTEPS ARE JOINED BY THE ONES WE CARE ABOUT AND TOGETHER WE MAKE IT A HAPPY JOURNEY.
Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint brought about a deep, painful sadness to his heart. Maybe it was the way the wind lifted her hair. Maybe it was the way the kiss of her footsteps grew ever more faint with each gentle step in the opposite direction.
“What was that noise?” she said in a whisper. “I think it was footsteps,” I said turning to look in the direction of the noise. We were in the woods, sitting around the campfire after a long day hiking. This was not my idea of relaxing and, now, I had to contend with something ominous lurking in the woods. A bear? An escaped convict? An ax murderer?
Footsteps they are and always will be the path to be the path that has been and the stories in between. Big, little, wide, narrow they are the people themselves. We have our own but the few of us lucky enough to step inside someone’s footsteps truly understand the unity of the universe.
Footsteps? Are those footsteps? I’m I paranoid or am I smart and prepared? Are they trying to get in to my apartment? Oh….no good they were just walking their dog but there footsteps were so fast I swear they could’ve been after me..I swear.
Trailing through the sand behind my lover I wandered. I thought of the past, sinking into my regret. My head dropped lower and lower at the thought of the trials and tribulations we had encountered. I was so focused on trudging through my troubles I looked up to find no one, and no footsteps left to follow.
The footsteps you leave on people’s hearts speak a lot about you. Tread with caution. Tread with love. Tread with care. Stomp if you must, but remember when you go all you leave behind are memories.
as I walked down the street, I could hear footsteps behind me. I would look and nobody was there. so I keep walking. When I finally got home, I locked the doors and windows. the next day I saw a man through the window. he was just standing there like he was waiting for somebody but they never came. after a minute he left and I went to school. I heard the footsteps again. I stopped and the footsteps stopped. I was starting to get worried so I ran to school. after school I went to the library and heard them again.
I glance at you, sashay in the room
im gonna sweep you with my eyes,
optical broom,
recall that i requested your number
and now your trying to take my number
z1079,
get in line,
or let me enjoy the sound of your foot steps
click clack, against the floor,
goes the sound of wack attacks of timing,
which lead to me lounge here,
steadily and gingerly rhyming!
the memory of the footstep
it could be loud
or soft
big
or small
the time when you snuck out
or the time you fell down stairs
they will always be there
Footsteps grow bigger. I love to look at my footprints when I walk through puddles and then walk on dry pavement. I’ve noticed how my prints have grown through the years.
She heard footsteps behind her but she didn’t look back. She hugged her knees as tight as possible and looked out over the ocean. She felt him settle into the sand next to her, but she still kept her eyes on the rollicking waves as the tide came in. The whole scene was strangely quiet, even for the water crashing into the sand.
I heard it.
The footsteps,
were becoming the thumps.
I tried running.
Tried flying.
Tried to tie myself on the ceiling,
to make it clear.
That I was only imagining.
The footsteps were getting closer. I still couldn’t see where they were coming from, but I was getting scared. Why is it so dark? Why are they getting closer? I need to get away. Run. Run. Shit, they’re running too. RUn. run. RUN.
She heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. She covered her mouth to stop the sounds of her heavy breathing, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he found where she was hiding. She could only guess what he would do to her when he did find her….
in the dark I hear them
footsteps
strolling through my mind
a stalker, watching me
studying me
planning his attack
i want to run away
think about something else
I wonder how my baseball team
…..he’s there
I need to make a to-do list
….he’s taking notes
That girl in the office is pretty
….he smiles an evil grin
Footsteps drawing closer
i can feel his breath on my neck
this lurking monster
sinister whisper
you are nothing
a waste of flesh
let me take your pain away
chills on my skin
frozen
struggling to move
muscles locked
now his malevolent laugh
straining, reaching
finally, turning the light on
illumination, he’s gone
i catch my breath
panic subsiding
now, to rest
lights off
….in the dark
i hear them
Tiny, somber footsteps leading to the bedroom. Hot fingerprints lingering on an unraveling red sweater. Puffs of breath descending from an old and creaky staircase. And saltwater in the sink. Not tears, just saltwater. The ocean backing up into the pipes, threatening to burst them. Like breaking bones in a decrepit man’s wooden face.
I know I know a person when I can recognize their footsteps. I long for that day that I will be around you all the time that I will be familiar with your footsteps…and also hear it everyday.
footsteps tap tap
sneaking up clack clack
back attack
back stab
cadillac, act fab
fabricate that you’re not sad
sadistic action can’t be passion
origin armor isn’t fashion
I make my way up the narrow stairway and the sound of every step I take seems to return to me an angry fit of thunder. Yet, when I finally stand before the door, an impenetrable silence prevails. It devours everything, doesn’t it? My footsteps didn’t break it, they yielded to it. I throw words into it but like my footsteps, they all fade to nothing. The only trace of either existing – a memory, a feeling, a moment – these are things silence can never take away.
The door swings open, and I deny silence its feast.
I was worried I was being too loud. It was late, we had gotten there just as I thought they would close the gates at sunset. But they were still open. I was worried I would make too much noise, walking across the divide of a road. There was an older woman and a younger girl there I barely recognized. I was worried I would interrupt. It was his cousin and aunt, they waved me over gently with hushed eye contact. Foot steps, slow and controlled across the lithe grass. “You knew him?” the older woman asked. “Yeah, he was my friend. We dated.” I replied. I had been worried about my foot steps, I’d forgotten to worry about when I actually got to the grave.
The footsteps sounding in the hall sounded unnaturally loud as they echoed in the empty building. She had been waiting, seemingly for years, for him to come. She dropped her coat and ran to him. It was always said that he had hooves but he was wearing wingtips. Of course his skin felt warm, it was hot were he lived. She took his hand and they walked out of the building, into the woods to the cave. The cave was cool but she could feel the heat as they got closer to the pit.
A sound that fills, a sound that empties, if they approach or recede. Tread marks follow the coils of my brain like highways. Hills, valleys- caused by or just marked by the steps passing through? An answer not meant to be said aloud. Crunching gravel growing quieter to return with vigor under a bounding figure. The terrain grows coarse and rough-
Enough.
Enough now.
Does that mean done, or satisfied?
Not meant to be said aloud;
the sound of boots pounding on cement spell it out in riddle, in rhyme, rhythmically.
They echo from down a dark hall. Across empty intersections at a cross between evening and night. Some creep ominously. Others speak to the language of goodbye. Still others often are just drifting inter-dimensions of fellow human kind. We pass each other in front of revolving doors and dim-lit foyers. Usually a momentary interruption, but sometimes one disappears forever from the other.
I heard footsteps coming from the stairs. Oh no! I had to hide, I was looking at the Christmas presents in my parents room. I ran into their closet and hid behind the hanging up clothes. I was trying to hear what they where saying… ”look, I found the adoption booklet for belle. Although, we still haven’t told her yet”. My stomach dropped.
Our footsteps took us past the hotel I dreamed us in, me in my night blue-and-white jasmine-print dress, flowers even printed on my Converse. We didn’t go in. It was all normal. But it was all true. It was all true.
its like i could always hear them in the back of my mind, footsteps, always there, never getting closer or further. it was a while before i realized they were mine. i was always in your shadow, unable to catch up. always chasing but also never moving
FOOTSTEPS IS WHAT WE TAKE IN NUMBERS TO COVER LIFES LENGTHY PATH. OUR FOOTSTEPS ARE JOINED BY THE ONES WE CARE ABOUT AND TOGETHER WE MAKE IT A HAPPY JOURNEY.
under my feet are
cheesecake crumbs and
dinosaur bones
pulling up from the floor
back into the dirt
Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint brought about a deep, painful sadness to his heart. Maybe it was the way the wind lifted her hair. Maybe it was the way the kiss of her footsteps grew ever more faint with each gentle step in the opposite direction.
Footsteps are the evidence of our experiences, measured in increments by our ability to walk towards the sunset.
“What was that noise?” she said in a whisper. “I think it was footsteps,” I said turning to look in the direction of the noise. We were in the woods, sitting around the campfire after a long day hiking. This was not my idea of relaxing and, now, I had to contend with something ominous lurking in the woods. A bear? An escaped convict? An ax murderer?
footsteps are sometimes loud and annoying, especially when people like stomping.
Footsteps they are and always will be the path to be the path that has been and the stories in between. Big, little, wide, narrow they are the people themselves. We have our own but the few of us lucky enough to step inside someone’s footsteps truly understand the unity of the universe.
Footsteps Not everybody notices but your footsteps can reveal a lot about you.
Her hooves beat against the firm dirt of the trail, a rhythmic sound, almost meditative.
Footsteps? Are those footsteps? I’m I paranoid or am I smart and prepared? Are they trying to get in to my apartment? Oh….no good they were just walking their dog but there footsteps were so fast I swear they could’ve been after me..I swear.
Footsteps are the ways, maybe yours or other’s, that one can follow to reach his goal or destination.
i hear footsteps coming from the hall then a monster jumps out and then I wake up in math class
Trailing through the sand behind my lover I wandered. I thought of the past, sinking into my regret. My head dropped lower and lower at the thought of the trials and tribulations we had encountered. I was so focused on trudging through my troubles I looked up to find no one, and no footsteps left to follow.
The footsteps you leave on people’s hearts speak a lot about you. Tread with caution. Tread with love. Tread with care. Stomp if you must, but remember when you go all you leave behind are memories.
as I walked down the street, I could hear footsteps behind me. I would look and nobody was there. so I keep walking. When I finally got home, I locked the doors and windows. the next day I saw a man through the window. he was just standing there like he was waiting for somebody but they never came. after a minute he left and I went to school. I heard the footsteps again. I stopped and the footsteps stopped. I was starting to get worried so I ran to school. after school I went to the library and heard them again.
I heard the ninja like footsteps that probably my mind made up or was a reality to be afraid for. I wonder which was scarier?
I glance at you, sashay in the room
im gonna sweep you with my eyes,
optical broom,
recall that i requested your number
and now your trying to take my number
z1079,
get in line,
or let me enjoy the sound of your foot steps
click clack, against the floor,
goes the sound of wack attacks of timing,
which lead to me lounge here,
steadily and gingerly rhyming!
footsteps
fotsteps
foutsteps
footstups
fotstups
the memory of the footstep
it could be loud
or soft
big
or small
the time when you snuck out
or the time you fell down stairs
they will always be there
Footsteps grow bigger. I love to look at my footprints when I walk through puddles and then walk on dry pavement. I’ve noticed how my prints have grown through the years.
She heard footsteps behind her but she didn’t look back. She hugged her knees as tight as possible and looked out over the ocean. She felt him settle into the sand next to her, but she still kept her eyes on the rollicking waves as the tide came in. The whole scene was strangely quiet, even for the water crashing into the sand.
I heard it.
The footsteps,
were becoming the thumps.
I tried running.
Tried flying.
Tried to tie myself on the ceiling,
to make it clear.
That I was only imagining.
The footsteps were getting closer. I still couldn’t see where they were coming from, but I was getting scared. Why is it so dark? Why are they getting closer? I need to get away. Run. Run. Shit, they’re running too. RUn. run. RUN.
one after the other … punctuated by the ticking noise of the dog’s claws on the pavement. The tension started to ease with the walking.
ecommerce business is the futurefootsteps
She heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. She covered her mouth to stop the sounds of her heavy breathing, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he found where she was hiding. She could only guess what he would do to her when he did find her….
Crunch, scrape, sink, squish
Get me there
Show where I’ve been
I’ll walk in yours
if you walk in mine
And we will understand
in the dark I hear them
footsteps
strolling through my mind
a stalker, watching me
studying me
planning his attack
i want to run away
think about something else
I wonder how my baseball team
…..he’s there
I need to make a to-do list
….he’s taking notes
That girl in the office is pretty
….he smiles an evil grin
Footsteps drawing closer
i can feel his breath on my neck
this lurking monster
sinister whisper
you are nothing
a waste of flesh
let me take your pain away
chills on my skin
frozen
struggling to move
muscles locked
now his malevolent laugh
straining, reaching
finally, turning the light on
illumination, he’s gone
i catch my breath
panic subsiding
now, to rest
lights off
….in the dark
i hear them
Tiny, somber footsteps leading to the bedroom. Hot fingerprints lingering on an unraveling red sweater. Puffs of breath descending from an old and creaky staircase. And saltwater in the sink. Not tears, just saltwater. The ocean backing up into the pipes, threatening to burst them. Like breaking bones in a decrepit man’s wooden face.
I know I know a person when I can recognize their footsteps. I long for that day that I will be around you all the time that I will be familiar with your footsteps…and also hear it everyday.
footsteps tap tap
sneaking up clack clack
back attack
back stab
cadillac, act fab
fabricate that you’re not sad
sadistic action can’t be passion
origin armor isn’t fashion
I make my way up the narrow stairway and the sound of every step I take seems to return to me an angry fit of thunder. Yet, when I finally stand before the door, an impenetrable silence prevails. It devours everything, doesn’t it? My footsteps didn’t break it, they yielded to it. I throw words into it but like my footsteps, they all fade to nothing. The only trace of either existing – a memory, a feeling, a moment – these are things silence can never take away.
The door swings open, and I deny silence its feast.
I was worried I was being too loud. It was late, we had gotten there just as I thought they would close the gates at sunset. But they were still open. I was worried I would make too much noise, walking across the divide of a road. There was an older woman and a younger girl there I barely recognized. I was worried I would interrupt. It was his cousin and aunt, they waved me over gently with hushed eye contact. Foot steps, slow and controlled across the lithe grass. “You knew him?” the older woman asked. “Yeah, he was my friend. We dated.” I replied. I had been worried about my foot steps, I’d forgotten to worry about when I actually got to the grave.
The footsteps sounding in the hall sounded unnaturally loud as they echoed in the empty building. She had been waiting, seemingly for years, for him to come. She dropped her coat and ran to him. It was always said that he had hooves but he was wearing wingtips. Of course his skin felt warm, it was hot were he lived. She took his hand and they walked out of the building, into the woods to the cave. The cave was cool but she could feel the heat as they got closer to the pit.
A sound that fills, a sound that empties, if they approach or recede. Tread marks follow the coils of my brain like highways. Hills, valleys- caused by or just marked by the steps passing through? An answer not meant to be said aloud. Crunching gravel growing quieter to return with vigor under a bounding figure. The terrain grows coarse and rough-
Enough.
Enough now.
Does that mean done, or satisfied?
Not meant to be said aloud;
the sound of boots pounding on cement spell it out in riddle, in rhyme, rhythmically.
Coming closer.
Going away.
Into my life,
out of my life.
They all seem to leave.
They echo from down a dark hall. Across empty intersections at a cross between evening and night. Some creep ominously. Others speak to the language of goodbye. Still others often are just drifting inter-dimensions of fellow human kind. We pass each other in front of revolving doors and dim-lit foyers. Usually a momentary interruption, but sometimes one disappears forever from the other.
I heard footsteps coming from the stairs. Oh no! I had to hide, I was looking at the Christmas presents in my parents room. I ran into their closet and hid behind the hanging up clothes. I was trying to hear what they where saying… ”look, I found the adoption booklet for belle. Although, we still haven’t told her yet”. My stomach dropped.