18th May, 1995
A note with tear stains on it,
heart-rending, in my mind.
Most probably, just cheesy.
I locked it in a case, thinking I hid it well.
It made perfect sense at the time:
my move, the note, its hiding place.
I never saw the note again,
I roughly remember what it said.
I saw deaths after that, but no one saw mine.
When I look back, it made perfect sense. At the time.
I still wonder where the note is.
(c) Mariya Koleva, 2017
This poem was written for Poetic Asides Wednesday Prompt # 419 – “made sense at the time”