Secret Saturday: Poet No More

Confession: I used to hate poetry

I used to be an avid poet. Poetry was like breathing, it just came to me naturally. I loved making poetry and finding the perfect blend of adjectives, nouns and verbs to express my deepest inner emotion. So why did I decide to give it up? Well long story short, it involved a girl (seems like it always does) I was intent on dating. One day on the bus, I wrote her a short poem that I had wrote and she loved it. Every week she’d ask me to write her a new poem and I felt more than inclined to. I thought that each poem brought me just a little closer to reaching her heart. Sadly, I wrong wrong and ended up writing close to thirty poems for her altogether. I even copied them and created a book for my own keeping. Some of them were pretty intense (considering I was only in eighth grade at the time). After she turned me down, I was completely distraught. Not only did my feelings go to waste but so did my poetry. I vowed I would never write another piece of poetry for the rest of eternity. Poetry only brought about pain and false notions of love. So in order to move on I burned all the poems I wrote and my little poetry book.

Now so many years later I want to re-read all those poems I wrote. I realized that poetry isn’t to blame for the way I felt and I can’t really blame the girl either. I was a stupid kid who thought he knew what love was and I totally jumped the gun. I don’t really regret writing all those poems either.

Even after all this time, whenever I see her she reminds me that she still keeps all the poems in a special shoe box. For that girl, those poems made her feel special and one of kind. Even though those feelings weren’t reciprocated I can say that at least once in my life I made someone feel special. I can proclaim that my words left a lasting impression on someone. It’s a shame that I no longer posses those intense pieces of writing. I’ve even thought about asking her to let me copy those poems, but I don’t have to the balls to face her. How can I explain that poems that she cherishes were once daily reminders  of my nativity and pain? Maybe one day I’ll finally sum up the courage to do so, but in the meantime I’m ready to dive back into the world of poetry.

 

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