Monday, December 21, 2009

simple

the butt of our first cigarette together
the frayed map of the city
the business card of the café
a bracelet I never wore
letters
from everyone back home
asking me what the hell I was doing there
and when was I going to come home
my box
of belief
the only thing I keep
to tell me that it isn’t a dream
wasn’t a dream

8 comments:

Brian Miller said...

tight post...those memories we hold onto...i had to bury my box, to exorcise the ghost...

LaughOutLoud said...

...
hard for me to comment.
but great post.

justsomethoughts... said...

mr miller - thank you. i cant bury the box though. i'm afraid i'd jump in after it.

laughing still - thank you. but you can give it a shot :)

Oh My Goddess said...

Personally, I like the dream version better sometimes.

creative kerfuffle said...

those boxes are bittersweet. i found that once i thoroughly examined my box i could finally tuck it away for good.

justsomethoughts... said...

goddess - sometimes. all depends on the dream, i guess.

creative one - a thorough examination is probably in order.

Pearl said...

Ah. This made me a little sad.

I actually keep a large envelope at work, the remains of a relationship I killed with my own bare hands. Pictures, notes, letters. Loved him passionately, and the end was as dreadful as the beginning was passionate. Still can't bear to think about it.

Ack.

Pearl

justsomethoughts... said...

pearl - i'm sorry. it's amazing what we are capable of.