Four Years…And a Shoe Box.

13 Mar

Before I began blogging on a regular basis I sometimes wrote notes on Facebook expressing  my innermost thoughts. Since I didn’t write anything today, I decided to share something that I’ve kept tucked away and only shared with family and friends. But now..I kinda do consider you guys family and friends. I don’t write poetry much, so please don’t judge me to harshly if I didn’t adhere to true poetic license.

Four Years…And a Shoe Box

Four years and a shoe box, fond memories and invisible scars.

Ticket stubs and programs, a poem and birthday cards.

Decorative matches and coasters, our first date and our last.

Insecurity and uncertainty, the future is now the past.

Loneliness , questioned self-worth, tears shed, discovered fears.

Not everything fits in a shoe box, only the last little four years.

 

I wanted to hear I was beautiful, or be touched just so.

The attention of being wanted, security of not being let go.

The words were never uttered, the sentiments never shared.

And though I loved him deeply, my heart I choose to spare.

I’ve never had something so close, be just out of my grasp

I filled the box with little treasures; convinced love was mine alas.

 

I was never a needy woman; men were never scarce to me.

I seemed to be a magnet, their reverence I earned effortlessly.

But for this part I tenaciously rehearsed, and auditioned with fervor and zeal.

On the casting couch I slept, and still I fell short of his ideal.

Perched atop a pedestal, and well out of my reach.

I kept the box in secret, though I had nothing of worth to keep.

 

His love was never certain, his lack of commitment I was sure.

I gave more than what was offered, from me his heart he kept obscured.

How could I be a priority when I accepted second best?

I allowed me to be negotiable; I placed the value on myself.

I keep the box of memories to remind me of what was lost.

Four years stored in a shoebox to remind me of the cost.

 

Not everything fits in a shoe box, only the last little four years.

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2 Responses to “Four Years…And a Shoe Box.”

  1. nualapthatsme March 16, 2013 at 3:26 pm #

    Standing ovation

    You really could teach people how to use writing to heal

  2. Thehittlist March 16, 2013 at 3:32 pm #

    *blushing* I don’t know if I could teach that. I wish I could. It’s really about being brave enough to be truly vulnerable and honest.

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