[In the Corner of a Drawer]

In the corner of a drawer,
Shoved behind the mismatched socks
And the t-shirts I never wear,
Is an old photograph,
A *corner torn and folded over,
A coffee stain marring the image,
*Pale and faded with age.
Two faces, smiling and cheerful,
A contrast* to the pain that lives there now,
Turned towards each other,
And out there for the world to see.

When the negative* thoughts couldn’t touch us,
And forever was more than just
A distant, faraway dream.
The sun casts* shadows in the background,
And if you look closely,
You can see a phantom*,
A ghost,
Of the girl I used to be.

Once upon a time a kiss
Was all it took to flip*
The switch,
And ignite* a fire so hot,
I swear we should have burnt
That entire beach town to the ground.

Ashes to sand, hand in hand.

But you know what they say
About flames that burn wild.

In a flash* they die out,
Leaving smoldering coals,
And nothing to save.

So I delegate those memories
To the back of a drawer,
Out of sight, but never forgotten,
Even if I can’t look at it anymore.
There’s a reel in my head,
That flows* and runs without end,
Of every memory clip* together,
Your voice a broken record,
My heart the needle*
That allows it to

and stick around.

I keep hoping the pain will taper* off,
And fade away.
But the button* on my mind seems to be stuck,
And it just

There’s a photograph, worn and torn
Shoved in the back of a drawer.
It’s battered and beaten,
And it seems to look just like I feel.

But I can’t let it go.

Because I need to remember that once upon a time…

I was real.


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