Such a beautiful poem. You really know how to make me reminisce about my past. I still have my shoeboxes(2) from my teen/young adult life. Movie tickets,prom souvenirs, etc. along with notes and poems. Ahhh young love! Though now my memoirs aren't in a shoebox but my cedar chest. I love the structure of this poem and although it's short it packs in some powerful stuff. I think you are definitely my poetic muse. Your poetry seems so relatable to me.
What a heartbreaking piece. I know many will relate to...I still have all mine and John's love letters and notes we paused in High School...lol...i never wrote a poem till John died...then I had all those emotions trapped inside....I had to let them go....I can go back now after 10 yrs and read them.
Great job on this.
Nominated, because it just made me want to cry, then again a puppy commercial would make me cry what with the stupid pills in my system but that's not the point.
Throughout the entire poem I was captivated by how well structured and well made it was. I love the first stanza because it just is the base for the rest of the poem, I was interested in the poem for the title of it since I'm curious by nature I wanted to see what it was and I got to read something beautiful!
Love letter, letters for everything I wish I had to savor in my darkest days whenever I think about the person I loved that died but I have something different I have poetry she made and never shared and that too is like a lovely love letter or a sad letter for it's a memory you want to relive it when they aren't there anymore to laugh and share jokes about the past that you had with them. Anyways I'm going on and on...sorry Maple!
Lovely poem, very relatable, and emotional it's truly a great read every time! 5/5
I used to keep all my old love letters in a shoe box. For some reason I threw them away years later. Shame really. I wonder where all the old love letters go? Maybe they end up being used as nesting for birds in spring?
Anyway, I digress. In the days I used to write all my poems I kept them in old books. I used to look back over them. Some of them were too painful to reveal to anyone. Too raw, too fragile, or maybe that was just me?