The letters from those teenage flings, scribbled on college rule, the roses made of hershey kisses, hardened and dried, the 100 origami hearts, stuffed in a glass cylinder, meant everything in those high school days, and nothing on moving day.
Moving sucks. Having moved many times, my friends look at me as an expert so I'm always helping and my back hates me for it.
Anyways, I like what your doing here. The odd-numbered lines bring up a memory and the even-numbered lines place that memory in the context of now. Those teenage flings have significance but also lose it as we mature and I think you capture that very well here.
3 comments:
Crap. Spent the last two days helping Alex T. pack for his big move east. Just got home, and this is all I have today.
Moving sucks. Having moved many times, my friends look at me as an expert so I'm always helping and my back hates me for it.
Anyways, I like what your doing here. The odd-numbered lines bring up a memory and the even-numbered lines place that memory in the context of now. Those teenage flings have significance but also lose it as we mature and I think you capture that very well here.
The content and style of the poem really function well together. I just cleaned out my closet... I can't help but to sift through the old stuff.
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