His...

It smelled like leather
Not the cheap kind
Good clean leather
It warmed me often
I loved to wrap it
Around my shoulders
His jacket, his smell

It wrote in bright red
Not too dark or light
Always just right
Like ripe tomatoes
I loved to steal it
Giggle, tease with it
His pen, his words

She sounded scary
It never lasted long
She kissed my cheek
And frolicked around
I loved stroking her fur
And playing tug-o-war
His dog, his heart

I feel all alone
Without him to hold
Missing his whispers
And gentle caresses
I hate that he’s gone
Perhaps never to return
Not his girl, not his love


another assignment for the poetry group im in.