Box of Hearts

January 6, 2013
By WritingLoverForever PLATINUM, Bowling Green, Ohio
WritingLoverForever PLATINUM, Bowling Green, Ohio
32 articles 2 photos 198 comments

Favorite Quote:
It's not about success; it's about significance.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.


High upon a shelf there sits a box
in the darkness of my closet, all alone.
Containing artifacts, or treasures,
of the untold stories of my heart,
it waits patiently for the next time I want to remember
the glory days of being in love.

Tender little poems are such tokens of love.
Receiving them was like opening a colorfully garnished box
at Christmas. There’s a ticket stub I’ve kept to help me remember
when I had my first kiss at the movies, and that alone
is enough to keep me smiling for hours. I know in my heart
it’s the little things like that I will always treasure.

Each memory is like buried treasure.
They hold the values and history of love.
But sometimes it’s heavy on my heart
to open up the precious box,
for the happy memories do not stand alone.
I am also faced by things I don’t want to remember.

My mother says it’s important to remember
the bitter times too, and the lessons you learned. Treasure
also the moments in which you are alone,
because there’s more to life than just love.
So that’s why I keep this little box,
to store away every burdened, broken piece of my heart.

I have a locket in the shape of a heart.
It is pink, which I thought was sweet of him to remember
my favorite color. This I keep in my jewelry box,
but I do not wear it, perhaps because this treasure
still retains the sting of my lost first love,
and I do not want to remind myself that I am alone.

I oftentimes feel hopelessly alone.
But I have a fragile, insecure heart
that struggles to feel worthy of love.
So when I need to remember
how it feels to be treasured,
I revisit all the lovers preserved inside my box.

We will not spend our entire lives alone. I can only hope you’ll always remember
me, even after our hearts find forever. But I won’t let the treasured
relics of our past die in vain. I promise every “I love you” will live on inside my box.


The author's comments:
This is a sestina-form poem I wrote for my senior Creative Writing independent study in school. Basically, it's about a keepsake box I have filled with memoirs of my ex-boyfriends.

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