I came across a dusty cupboard,
Wiped it clean,
It was a solid teak structure,
With a beautifully carved frame.
The cupboard held many ghosts,
From my recent past,
A tattered book of verses,
A hand note of love, now lost.
A dirty old sweatshirt,
That faintly smelt of him,
An unfinished neck piece,
Strewn with the beads of lust.
A rusted string of his bass guitar,
The reason, I used to dance,
A black and white Polaroid picture,
Stained with the joys of our past.
And as I lower this structure,
Into the deep chambers of my heart,
It creaks a final goodbye,
And fades into the memories from my past.