Leather gloves


Soft as butter

Black as the night

Lined for warmth

Smooth for the ride

In mornings they are needed

Forgotten in the heat

A simple item worn as a second skin

Primitive, accepted and I am yet to see the sin. 


A piece of my heart


There is a piece of my heart that is gone,

Nothing seems to fill the void.

Every breathe, every step and every hope,

Nothing seems to change.

I find ways to keep my mind occupied,

To drown out the emptiness I feel.

But that piece of my heart is gone.

Missing, absent and lost.