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The Collector

This is where you brought me and this is now my home. Everything you've ever given me I've put it on the top shelf to admire: bones of ghosts and bruises, these magenta mementos that I press daily. "Why are you always so sad?" is the constant question, never asked but always seen in the fleeting climate of your eyes. Because I've conditioned myself to be like you, carelessly tracking in stains on people's hearts that just seem to collect over time.

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Jim Tidd

Date: 11/17/2015 8:59:00 AM

These are the type of poems, this and the last, that make the reader wonder, and without knowing you, almost impossible to decipher. But then, they seem to be cathartic for you, which is good.

Jim Tidd
Date: 11/17/2015 9:12:00 AM

The danger is letting my imagination wander freely and reading things into the poem, interpretations that might be totally off base, though often I think I have a handle. Sometimes too, I think some write poems that only they truly know the meaning, partly because they don't want others to know, or maybe just a specific person who would understand if they were to read it.

Feli Elizab
Date: 11/17/2015 9:05:00 AM

Sometimes I write pretty cryptic things. They are cathartic though. Thanks for reading :)