By William D. Jordan
Submitted by Kirk, Blender-Keeper
Date: 2020 May 14
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cigar box

the women I've loved
are buried in a cigar box,
filled with tattered love letters
and tear stained goodbyes,
of hinted promises
on dented postcards
with exotic stamps,
lipstick phone numbers on napkins
and fading photographs
of devilish eyes and
afterglow smiles,
a stray rosary
and some Mardi Gras beads.

...and suddenly you left me
bereft and bare,
ruefully foolish
with a dent in the pillow,
maybe some day you'll dare,
with mild contrite, to tell me why
and that it wasn't just you,
but in the meantime
I've placed your memory
with all the others
because now and then
I'll go through it and smile,
a sad bittersweet smile,
as if I was always meant to...