A black stiletto lost in the throws of passion, kicked to lie far under the bed. Poor shoe forgotten in the heat of love making, forever separated from the perfect smoothness of your slim left leg.
The soft kisses, your arms holding me tight, a simple shoe left bereft at the end of the night.
Come morning the stiletto eluded us.
“It doesn’t matter” you said your soft lips finding mine. Full of the joy of our love making you left your face radiant a single shoe clutched in your hand.

---

You stand perplexity giving way to anger, A slim black stiletto points straight at my heart.
“What is this? It isn’t my size. No lies. Who is she? You *******”.