Confessions of a Hoarder

Short poem about love and its maladies.

I store your memories

on the surface of my skin,

somewhere between

each goose-bump. 

They release into nostalgia

with a tender touch

or a faint tickle. 

I collect your kisses

in the crevices of my collar bones.

I water them with love, daily,

in hopes they soon bloom,

bringing with them 

Spring

in my heart.

I stack your worries

above the shelves 

of my shoulders.

Mountainous, unwavering;

steady for you to lean on. 

I save your soft words

between the folds of my lips.

Like golden honey they drip,

sweetening my every breath. 

I gather your secrets 

behind my ears 

tucked away securely 

like little baby hairs. 

I hold your name

enveloped in my lungs,

so I can think of you

between my every breath,

before my last breath,

and after every sigh of relief.

I preserve your dreams 

behind the curtains

of my eyelids. 

I project them in front of me,

like an old film,

reel after reel,

slowly turning

into reality. 

I keep your love 

inside the cavity of my chest,

stashed away, close to my heart. 

I feel it echoing

between my heartbeats. 

I won't let go. 

Reviews

[Phill Oz O'fee]

I loved the figurative and expressively poetic imagery of the subject ‘hoarding’ up the facets of an all consuming relationship. But I noticed you described the composition as a ‘Short poem about love and its maladies’. And, when we ponder on all the metaphoric maladies that can be visited upon the human body, death of love itself would be the easiest to diagnose. So, as you said at the end … we should not let go!

Excellent write …

[Patrick Schultz]

This was really believable, so much so I hung onto every word. However because of the last stanza I couldn't tell if it was a declaration of happiness or something sad.