I’ll battle with my subconscious later.

Among pieces of the past
I found a broken heart.

How was I to know
I would change so much-
Alter belief-
No longer quite like you …?

I love you for everything you have done
But, believe me that I love me, too.

While  unearthing secrets of a bitter past, an argument, I felt my heart strain with the memory of the heart break.
The tears I cried back then as I screamed words I’d regret moments after…
They come flooding back.

There are reasons I indulge in a little healthy hording. Yes, I keep “doodle-riddle pieces of pilfered paper” with words that mean nothing. Yes, I keep printed photos, ripped and rumpled, that I could print again. Of course, that drawer of rubbish could be emptied straight into the bin- but, with each… With each, a memory sits. And I was reminded, as I opened it and saw a crumpled image of some celebrity, books stashed away, secret drawings, who I was then. The things I loved once upon a time. The words that hurt. The words I loved to write- and the ones I loved to love.

I remembered the days I would lie in bed and stare at them with angsty music blaring, a smile on my face, or tears in my eyes, as they remained there, stuck up on my wall with gammy bits of blu-tac.

And I remembered the day that a heated fight brought them raining down.


I very much love how each of these seemingly useless scraps of paper carry much more with them than the inked words suggest.

All together now

 

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