
Moving
I made three piles:
to keep,
to sell,
to throw away.
I tossed out
the last pieces of you--
books and pictures,
jagged bits that cut me
each time I looked at them.
I cleared the fridge
and broke the magnetic poems
I'd been saving for years,
written by men
who never loved me.
I used his toothbrush
to clean the grout
because he's
never
coming
back.
I don't know why I kept these things
so long.
This sadness,
I'm going to leave
all this sadness
behind
like an ugly couch
on the sidewalk.
Like some shit
that nobody
wants.
More poetry
I did the same, even down to the grout thing! Difference being, I kept all those old letters and pictures and whatnot from women who don't love me, in order to cling onto the fact that once somebody actually did. If I ever have to prove that in a court of law then I have documentary evidence.
Posted by: J on January 19, 2007 01:22 AMLoves it!
Posted by: Jenn on January 20, 2007 10:59 PMneed a hug?
I hope when you were done, you met up with people or someone who loves you, whether openly declared or not - a friend.
what inspired the sudden clean out? anyways, take it easy.
About me? I'm one big, raw, exposed fucking nerve. What else is there to know?New Rule
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Why I Don't Answer Before 4pm
Well, well, well
Revenge of the Cyst
I Will Survive. Probably.
Thank You
Where the hell I've been
A foulmouthed tart
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