This was once a love poem
Before all the rumors
Before the fear
It once went on and on about little idiosyncrasies
How it held the key to the door
and it opened it up to all the wonders that the world has to offer
It once was a love song
Before the guitars played out of tune
Before the band broke up
Before the notes weighed down the piano
It once was a painting
Before you took away all its meaning
Before you stripped it of its color
Before they stopped and stared
It was once a class
Before you ignored its teachings
Before it was left all in a mess
Before you ran out of excuses
It once was an ocean
Before the waves stopped kissing the shore
Before everyone left their mark
Before the water evaporated and there was nothing left
It was once a conversation
Before you set expectations
Before you made all of the decisions
Before it built all the barriers to keep you out
This once was a love poem
Before the weeds overgrew the beauty
And the windows cracked
Before the house was abandoned
And no one looked back
Before the jungle enveloped it
And no one dared to find it.
Before everything except you,
It was a love poem.
Now it recognizes its old self in the columns of the newspaper, in the lens of a camera, in the stains of the blankets,
And even in a water bottle.
It can find pieces of itself in a smile, a necturnine, a laugh, car tire, portable bathroom, the overcast skies and on a park bench.
It used to hold the meaning
Of all the things it couldn’t directly say
It used to romanticize the unknown
Let predictability get lost in all of the confusion
It spoke to what it felt
Left skid marks on the blank paper
Of wonders and memories
It can’t remember now
It used to love to be read out loud
It used to sound like a symphony of roses
But now there are only the thorns
It used to go on and on
But stopped when you said it should
It used to listen to only you
But now it remembers how it can sing
Different melodies and memories intertwined with heartache and promise
It used to think that it was loved
It used to understand the world
Look at it through a tainted magnifying glass
And smile blissfully in its beauty
It was lovely then, this poem.