This morning when I awoke
the first thing I set eyes on
was your red sock.
The free airline sock
you dried your eyes on
(not having a handkerchief on the plane)
the first time we parted.
You mailed it to me afterwards
as a memento,
and sometimes I smell it
hoping to catch some lingering trace
of your deep soul in the tears
soaked into it.
Now your head/your heart/your God
tells you what we have is wrong
and I will have you never;
nothing more of you than
this little red sock,
forever.
I could use it myself now
to dry my own tears,
but my pride tells me
that would be absurd.
This is a draft version, which I might tighten up and change at some point. I wrote it in March this year after I was dumped by a girl I had been having a transatlantic relationship with. I guess it is just one of those lost love poems that get written by a lot of people – there is no experience like lost love to inspire poetic musings! I have since got back with the girl though (hurrah! In fact I am in America with her now) so perhaps I will write a cheerful ‘love regained’ one at some point.
All comments appreciated, especially as I’m looking to rework this one a little.
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