List Poem (Draft 2)

Cleaning a room is an odd experience,

like a trip into a jungle,

where’ve you seen everything before

but they suddenly have new meaning,

or it's more like an exotic

trip, one to the canyons, where every item

is suddenly valuable,

Kind-of like those old pants I bought you

the ones that never fit you quite right,

but you wore them anyway, just to make me happy

though I knew you never did like them,

or your mountain of mismatched socks,

the ones I never could throw away - even though

we both knew I wanted to, but you, 

you were so adamant in your defense,

claiming that one day, their soul-mate would come

but that day never did come, and it never will,

not since the day I received that message, the one thrown

on my desk in a crumbled mess,

the one covered in bitter tears so potent,

the black ink smeared, pooling onto that ricketty, raggedy desk

you spent all your time at, the cigarette dish still fresh,

your cologne, still too strong - the one that always

made me sneeze - your faded drawings, covered in crayon and marker.

your favorite pen, used to write many of letters back in the day, your box of tissues

the tissue!Oh, how could I forget

the tissue? The one you used to dab at my eyeliner

joking about how I looked akin to a raccoon

and oh how mad that made me, but you

you laughed it off, that deep laugh of yours

that sung a melody like the music box

A music box like a snow globe. My snow globe.

Remember that?

The glass could never be cleaned, and the snow

never quite looked right, but you

worked so hard, throwing those darts

and nailing the target

and winning the globe

You held it proudly, like a trophy

then handed it over to me

Now here it lies,  clouded with dust

Is it still your trophy now?

What about that old piece of bread

you kept in that liquid-filled dish

That grew a whole colony

and I urged you to throw it out

but you never could do it

How about your lucky ball cap

that smelled and had more holes than it ought

but you wore it anyway

your raven-black hair protruding through

like a smooth pebble

in a river that flew too fast

I would venture through this forest a million times

if it meant I’d find you at the end

with medals of gold on your chest

A hero, my hero

Just like you always have been

even with your quirks. The ones I loved

I loved every part of you, I always will

I even keep that ghastly clock in my room

that one that never did quite work

The one that goes off the same time every day

11:11

if only I had a wish to make

But for now, I’ll settle with

those dried, dead flowers

given to me in the month of May

Proclaiming me at the Queen of them all

I wore my crown proudly

even though, it never did quite match,

My flour-stained apron, 

or weathered shoes

Listen now, the clock is chiming

11:11

it’s time to make a wish