Feli Elizab Poet Free verse

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 November 17, 2015 at 8:59 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 November 17, 2015 at 9:12 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 November 17, 2015 at 9:05 AM Sometimes I write pretty cryptic things. They are cathartic though. Thanks for reading :)