after everything,

i kept the Christmas Carol

by Charles Dickens

on my nightstand for weeks.

it haunted me, reminded me

of everything i lost

and everything i wanted

to have.

i tried to read it,

to find some semblance of joy;

however, all i could see was 

your face.

i left it on a stack of books

letting it become covered 

by the other pieces of literature

but it still reminded me.

when christmas rolled around

i tried again

to read,

but i was reminded of you.

i was reminded of our 

ecstatic joy over classics 

i was reminded of our

two person book-club we wanted so desperately.

the new year came

i did some cleaning,

and i picked up the book, held it to my chest,

and i put it on my shelf.

i came so close to tossing it

into the dump

never to be seen again, but it was four dollars

and it was my unfulfilled desires.

it still sits there,

on the shelf in between

the Hiding Place and

Jane Eyre

forever will my

unfulfilled desires about us

collect dust 

on the flower-bare bookshelf.

~ s.k.j