It took no raindrops for your absence to hurt me,
but when they fell, the pain was nourished.
Your gentle compression was the hallmark of our relationship. Compression. Compassion.
Your surface enveloped my toes in an embrace. You pulled the moisture from them with all your heart.
The medial toes grew jealous of big toe and pinky, for by design—and without any chance for change—you afforded them less contact.
We all embraced the passion of engagement. We all cherished the value of your protection.
But not enough.
For we lost you.
Will I ever see you again, stray sock? Or will you be replaced by another?
Love is fleeting, wicking, synthetic.
Love is Superissimo.