The other night,
I made a scrapbook from the pieces of us,
Memories put on to parchment,
Crumpled photos and lingering gazes,
Tufts of hair and smiles around campfires,
Receipts and candlelit dinners,
It’s all that remains of us,
Existing only in paper and glue,

This scrapbook,
It has grown to be a cat o’ nine tails,
Papercuts and stinging eyes,
It hurts parts of me immaterial,
Every fibre of my being,
Yet the memories on those pages,
They’re the reason I don’t give in,
And throw it into the fire.

Comments
  1. Vibrant imagery. Well penned, my friend.

  2. Carol anne says:

    thats beautiful. Great poetry ❤

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s