(almost) a year later

more recent (aka from yesterday) poem im too embarrassed to show my friend haha. it's inspired off my ongoing habit of confusing stationery and stationary

finally, i threw out your things,

that lingered in my desk:

a notebook of dashed dreams of domesticity,

and a lavender-scented letter

i never sent.

they were tucked away under

things i used every day,

notebooks and watercolors and stationery.

what is wrong with me?

the papers started crumbling apart

a year ago now (three hundred seventy-seven days)

all so suddenly,

but that’s what the sun does, i suppose.

seven years (two thousand two hundred forty-two days)

of half-off love bound together,

with laughs, music, and hair dye,

picnics in the park,

sleepovers at in your room.

now all tucked away under

notebooks and watercolors, and stationary.

Reviews

[K. Louis]

This poem feels introspective, like a reflection on a past relationship that's slowly fading away. I like the line "but that's what the sun does, I suppose."