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Untitled Love Poem, by Anonymous

Updated: Oct 19, 2020

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.

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