Devices of Beauty or Sorrow

Brushing my fingers over the top
Feel with my mind
Feel with my soul
I close my eyes for a time
A drift of a smell eases to my nose

*sigh*

A gentle sense of pleasure graces my heart
I remember why I like them
They are just like me
Some broken and beaten
Others used
Others new
All with a different presence

Some I will cry over
Some I will laugh
Some may not even be worthy of my time
But they are all special
Just like me
So how could I ignore such beauty?