Ex Box

In the back of her closet
Behind dozens of shoes
Her box of ex’s
She couldn’t seem to lose
After each crash and burn
She’d fill it with good times
Or heartaches and failures
And relationship crimes

Some dried, brittle roses
In clear plastic tubes
A couple of polaroids
He took of her boobs
Some old ticket stubs
To their first hockey game
A picture with Mickey
In a Disneyland frame

An Absolut bottle
Filled with jelly beans
And a tattered back pocket
From a pair of his jeans
A CD jacket
From Elton John
With Tiny Dancer
That was their song

So many memories
Reduced to just crap
She wept a bit
At the stuff on her lap
Another lesson is learned
In the school of hard knocks
Throw out the contents
But hold onto the box.

by maggie signaigo

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