I picked you up
glistening, fresh out of the box.
The smell of fresh leather
"gazelle" gilded in gold across your stripes.
Fitting like a glove I loved you
the instant my eyes met yours.
We fit together iconically,
bread to butter,
I melted into you.
Everything was perfect;
you went with everything
Your first scuff was rough,
the black contrasted against the fresh white.
That's okay, shoes were meant to get dirty.
Every scuff reflected a story;
I found it unique,
until the stark white began to fade.
worn beyond repair,
I stopped wearing you.
Intentions of redemption lost,
a fresh new pair take your place.
Little did you know I was your old gazelles.