my glove

i carry this love like
a glove that is stretched out
worn in leather
so comfortable a perfect fit

for some reason i struggle
sometimes it confines me
and i wish to tear this glove
throw it's worn out threads
into the trash
sick of the gaping hole in the pointer finger

so i cut off all the fingers
and i got the glove re-stitched
now this glove fit so much better
the leather refinished

but in time the old stains shown through
the stretch out inevitable
more holes new in places we never knew
so i cut off the wrists

and i had them dyed, a new color
gave them some embelleshiments
pearls and gems bedazzler
like my earings

then they became so gaudy
i tore them off once again

i set them aside
knowing my love for the glove
and will revisit them when it becomes winter again

but in the meantime i walk my days alone
in despair wishing the glove was with me
there, everywhere i go in my dreams
my life my love

i know the sadness that ensues
when my glove is ripped away