Saving old voicemails

[organizedchaos]

I still save your voicemails.
It doesn't really mean anything when I replay them
over and over again,
dissecting every word,
analyzing how your tone rises and falls with each sentence.
Don't read too much into the fact
that I save your emails in my personal storage folder.
It's really not a big deal,
it's just a way for me to keep the past in the present,
reminding myself of how addicted I used to be.
Don't think too highly of yourself
That I often open my old journals,
grazing over old entries
of how you used to make my heart throb,
bringing me back to a world of childlike wonder and ecstasy
where everything about life was better with you in it.
The notes and letters in the box under my bed
aren't even important anymore,
even though the smell of them remind me
of the hours I spent holding them to my heart,
my eyes crystallized with euphoric tears,
stunned that life could give me someone like you.
And when you check up on my blog a month or two from now
know that I'm over it,
and that even though I still save your voicemails,
life moves on,
and I along with it.

[Buh4Bee]

This is not as engaging as your last poem. I find it to be too personal as well as offering the audience very little to enjoy. The expression of ideas are rather ordinary.

[Charles Darnay]

I just can't not read this in an annoyingly sarcastic tone, which makes it unpleasent.

[Jerrybaldy]

I enjoyed it. It felt honest and true. I didnt see it as sarchastic, but as somebody hurting. Somebody hurting is what most of the posts here are about. It reminded me of I'm not in love by 10cc, though that reference may well be lost. I enjoyed it very much. I believed in it, believed in you writing it, that makes it better than most instantly.
best wishes
JB

[Haunted]

I like the subject matter and the details, I'm stupid like that too. As far as the execution, it sounds too much like an essay. I'm sure you can do better than that, you just need to separate yourself from it first.

[organizedchaos]

Thank you everyone for the comments - I have taken the feedback into consideration and attempted to re word this poem. Let me know what you think!

I convince myself
It doesn't mean anything
As I hit "save"
yet again.
Adding the insignificant voicemail
to the collection
I often run to
When I'm bored
or hungry for passion,
or feeling self abusive,
and want to dive into past addictions
and guilty pleasures.
Similar to the piles of emails
in my personal storage folder
that I graze over from time to time,
it's my way of keeping the past in the present.
Of saving the euphoric highs and lows
by stuffing them deep in my gut
where they are safe from the light,
hidden from exposure.
As I read over old love poems,
subtle threatening letters,
and words I can't tell the difference,
I make sure they stay written
on all the parts of my body
that are hidden by my clothing.
I save the words
stuff the emotions
and get deliciously nauseous
from the scent of the past.

[Delta40]

You know, the second posting has a more poetic feel to it, but I much prefer the stark honesty that emerges in your original posting, probably because it isn't dressed to impress. IMO not everything in this life flows (God I so hate that word sometimes!) so why the hell write it as if it does?