Dianna’s Last Poem (short story)

She was in seventh heaven.

The sight of it gave her an utter shock. She found what she had been searching for this past few months. Her hands fidgeted as she brushed away the layer of dust on an old heart-shaped box, and her fingertips traced through the big box, remembering how she used to love writing poetry. She would write them on pieces of papers and stuffed them inside the box.

The big box was filled with memories. Inside it, there were stacks of grubby papers, large and thick files full of numerous, what-looked-like old drafts, a few masked classics and notebooks that inspired her life. 

A book stood out.

Dianna grasped a torn-lavender notebook that had the words, ‘My Poems’ plastered on the cover. The texture made her realise that although her life had ups and downs, so did the book. The ever, long lasting memories stayed within these pages of the small-sized book.  She took a deep breath, taking in the ancient smell, as she recognised  very well what it was. Lavenders. 

She recalled that time, where she pretended the notebook was a child of her own, and the bottle of a lavender perfume was soap that washed the stains of sadness and anger of how she felt. Gripping a back cover tightly, her eyes fell on a particular poem. Her heart felt sank, hands quivering, and tears were forming in her eyes, as she listened to herself reading the poem out loud. 

Date: 26th March 2015

A guy whom I liked for three years, 
Reminded me of a one-sided love,
And as happy as I was, he confessed,
Tears of joy streamed down from my eyes,
Like the fountain of youth.

As amazing as he was,
Had made me realise
I did not love him like that
Only as a friend.

Couldn’t make the right decision, 
Oh, I hurt him many, several times,
Tears shed for a long time after
Ending it for good.

Three years had passed
My mind was still a jumble
Feeling like I needed him back,
Begged for him to come back to me,
But what I didn’t know;
He had moved on.


That is all. Thank you for reading.

Alex is signing out.

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