Vintage

The Handbag

Photo by Irene Kredenets on Unsplash

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I found it unlabeled,
Soft-worn. Oil-folded
by hands I’ll never meet,
already lived-in.

Previous marriages
settled in the leather.
Children we each carry,
tucked in the lining.

The clasp clicks:
a sound like certainty.

My hand finds silk,
cool, slick,
too precious to let
anything catch.

What I’d place here,
if I dared—
the hope of every tomorrow
I’ve stopped imagining.

My fingers curl around air.
The weight of who we are,
and all we’ve yet to become.

The clasp stays open.

~Kayla

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©Just Kayla, 2025

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