A Writer Once Loved

I recently came across a short free verse poem on Tumblr about someone who once dated a writer. Being a writer, or at least that's what I proclaim myself to be, I felt the need to write a response.

And because I am a lonely soul, I have added my sad twist to the story. After all, the poem said "I once dated a writer."

I decided to take on a male's voice because it seems more fitting to me that way.

This writer once loved

but it didn’t work out.

I forgot our anniversary

and she got mad at me.

i do not remember the date,

But i remember the way

she smiled that day

As she instantly held captive

Of my soul.

I forgot to take the trash,

that contains the olives

that she took out from her pizza;

And starch her uniforms

That still smell faintly

Of her favourite perfume.

I may forget to do the laundry

But never the way

She looked in her chiffon dress...

That dances freely

As she lingers in my memory...

Fleeting.

Wanting to be forgotten.

Writers are indeed forgetful.

But we remember the little things

and it's heartbreaking

because rarely

do we get appreciated

for this gift.