PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Boxes of clothes and my laptop.

Hair extensions and my stash,

a freshly bought ounce hidden deep within the legit piles of shit.

Yearbooks from highschool, heavy and useless.

And the journals, each one filled with prose for you,

waiting to be looked back on in longing.

Oversized CAL sweatshirt, ready for those long nights before finals.

Bubbles, bubblers, bras, benadryl.

Snacks for the road, maybe some candy,

batteries, and emergency money.

My cellphone of course, tissues for mom,

my gameboy and the friendship bracelet I made for myself senior year.

Guitar picks, guitar amps, guitar stands, guitar books,

my ihome and my cds,

my graduation money and my pictures,

my stories and my old awards stacked on the bottom,

they barely fit.

Bobby pins, sorry Bobby, you have to stay home,

lighters, goodbye presents, momentos of so many broken hearts and broken roads about to be fixed.

But the thing that was hardest to pack,

its volume so great as to almost break my back,

squeezing in the sides and overflowing to the streets,

laying long lines of residue from here to Northern California-

was my love for you,

worn like a banner on my heart,

unforgettable.