Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
Hey, remember
when you and I sat in a field
and I found an interesting rock
that may even have been pretty
and you smashed it
for fun?
Hey, remember
how you and I sat in a field
and I held that interesting rock that
was once pretty
and tried to put it together
until I gave up?
Hey, remember
that you and I sat in a field
and a rock was just a rock
and not foreshadowing
and not a metaphor
for us?
In my bedroom,
on a shelf
is still a piece
of that rock.
Will my memories of you
become so jagged,
dust-covered, neglected
in time, will they
pain me as the rock does
when I hold it
too tightly?

February 26, 2014
12:43 AM
     edited March 6, 2014
RA
Written by
RA
Please log in to view and add comments on poems