Last (Poem)

Posted on by theageofthediary

by Age of the Diary

My sister’s medicine is on her bedside table,
It’s a 21-pack of small yellow pills,
My planner is filled
With everything that makes me ill,
Like my cat
Who snuggles up to me
Then bites,
Like the ticking clock
That annoys the hell out of me.
How was I able to stand clocks
Before the invention of cellphones?
How come I was never bothered
By ticking sounds before?
This is what I say to my mom’s ivory bracelet,
The one given to her by her lola,
Ivory is illegal now,
And her lola is dead,
But just like my doll Hugums,
We can’t seem to let go
Of everything that belongs to the past,
Of everything that didn’t last.

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