The Hoarder

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The hoarder was taken by beautiful things

like ducks made of china and junk metal rings.

Her house was a kingdom, and she was the queen

who lived through the pages of old magazines.

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Her wardrobe was spilling with second-hand silk.

Her pearls; tinted yellow like out-of-date milk.

Her walls showcased artists whose work wouldn’t sell.

Her bottles of fragrance were soured in smell.

​

The timeworn possessions had lives like her own;

once labeled as useless and ought-to-be-thrown.

But free from the pain that humanity brings,

a heart can’t be broken by beautiful things.

​

~

​

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/zyckq3/mikes_lost_his_shit/j268wnk/?context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/100paun/natrium_child/j2l3suh/?context=3