Old Books

sometimes I look through old books
for fragments of my past
an airline ticket maybe
something that was never meant to last

maybe half of an old greeting card
I’d cut to remind me of you
of the many ways you told me you loved me
and just how much I meant to you

or maybe a dried pink flower
picked up on a lonely walk
that day you said we would last forever
oh, how you assured me it wasn’t just talk

or maybe a short note
written on the back of a theater stub
‘sorry i can’t make it, babe, gotta work,’
just before everything we had blew up

so I close those old books forever
no point in dredging up the tears
not when my life turned out so much better
than the life I had with you all those years

 

Liz Madrid © 2015

3 thoughts on “Old Books

  1. It’s dangerous for me to read poetry this close and this good. It makes me feel again and sometimes I just don’t want to. I can only speak for myself, but you really nailed it with this one. After I go look out of the window for 20 minutes, I’m going to come back and read it ten more times. 🙂

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