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Literature Text
I've kept everything
you've given me.
not only the presents,
in red ink and black
electrical tape,
but the notes,
poems, scraps
of ribbon.
I finger them as if
they were rags.
I imagine, five years
or two or
fewer
from now, I will
shake them from the
dust they've been
sleeping in
and touch them
just once more,
thinking
"I remember when he used to love me"
you've given me.
not only the presents,
in red ink and black
electrical tape,
but the notes,
poems, scraps
of ribbon.
I finger them as if
they were rags.
I imagine, five years
or two or
fewer
from now, I will
shake them from the
dust they've been
sleeping in
and touch them
just once more,
thinking
"I remember when he used to love me"
reverse nostalgia
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