A Dingy Box of Memories

Tattered photographs cover the floor

Old letters lay in haphazard mountains

Your jacket hangs on the back of my door

And your sunglasses on my bookshelf

The corsage you gave me hangs on my wall

I don’t know what to do with your things

I want to move on from you, I really do

But whenever I start to get overwhelmed

I curl up with the old things you left behind

And breathe in the lingering scent of cologne

I don’t want to love you, not anymore

But I cannot bear to ever forget you

I wrap myself in your jacket and put on your music

The good and the bad memories besiege my mind

Your voice still holds my little heart captive

Although I love you more than you’ll ever understand

I will never be able to call you my own

So your old things get put into an old box

And are given to you by your roommate

No note, no explanation, no apology

Not because I never cared enough to explain

But because I cared too much, and had to set you free

Author's Note

I'm sorry for the roughness of this piece: I got bored and wrote this on the bus.

Reviews

[Gee]

I don't know about roughness but I would quite happily have posted this as my own, not that I've ever been in this situation or owned a bust and lady garden. Enjoyed this visit

[streetrose]

Thank you for reading and for your kind words