What have I lost?

Lost a suitcase with too many love letters. Held too long and too fast. To last.

Lost my heart to the man I did not understand. So foolish a young girl. What did I know of love

to hold on to it that well? Lost socks. 147 over a lifetime. I imagine they are somewhere with him

my stalker hoarding even the ones with the hole at the big toe, sitting with needle and thread painstakingly

mending what others call refuse. I refuse

to acknowledge the one that got away. I worked too hard and long

at giving myself away and only just now have I found myself, what was lost in some infernal junk drawer of miscellany is now mine again, bedraggled, blood-parched, begging me for mercy for one more go around the bend.

Let us do it–let us gather what is lost and grasp what so far
was never ours to hold

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9 thoughts on “What have I lost?

  1. My Dad wasn’t a letter writer. He wrote me one when I was away for a week. He never posted it, but gave it me on my return. I always kept it in my wallet. That was stolen about 20 years ago

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