She has a bookcase
Labeled “The Heartbreaks”
One shelf wasn’t enough
She wishes it was, for her sake

There are four different shelves
One for each genre of the hurt
Each in order of intensity
From sadness to anger to absurd

One shelf is for small aches
The quick ones that didn’t sting
Not as bad as the rest
They didn’t really mean a thing

One is for the long loves
The ones she always regrets
One is for the men who hurt her
But didn’t care or even fret

One is for the hurt she solely caused
Those were so unfair
She hates how horrible she was
Leaving both parties in despair

Most of the books are unfinished
She will never open their covers again
Some have empty pages near the back
Those she knows may never end

The ones without endings
Are because she hopes one day to fill
The story with happiness
Love that could finally conceal

What she really wants
Is just one more book
To place on different bookcase
In a special little nook

That begins with happy
And tells of true fate
All it entails is love
How life can be great

A book so wonderful that
It will begin a series
All of the volumes holding tales
Of adventures they’d experience.

Each book would tell a tale
Of their wonderful days
Of they fun they’d have together
And their love that would never fade

You could see, taste and smell their love
In each page as it turned
And each volume it got deeper
Their fate, always confirmed

And now she loves this bookcase
The other one has cobwebs
Her new one she has painted
With daisies and sunflower fields

Today she took a sledgehammer
She broke “The Heartbreaks” to pieces
All she needs or wants for
Is on the colorful flower bookcase



3 thoughts on “Bookcase

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