Locker 1453

Locker 1453.

I left a part of myself behind your door on the last day of seventh grade;

you wheezed

and sputtered when I opened you, 

but I didn't mind; for you had become a strange sort of companion

to protect my words that I wanted to keep hidden from

prying eyes and greedy hands

that are all too fast to hit "post" but

never stop and

slow down

to see where they're going.

Locker 1453,

nestled in the corner of the four hundred wing

with hundreds of identical lockers on her right side,

I can only remember you as a source of stability,

even though some days

you became jammed or broken

as children crowded the hallway nearby

in an attempt to descend stairwell C

to the three hundred wing.

Locker 1453,

I still walk past you every day 

on the way to Mrs. Fisher's English class.

Your beige paint is chipping and you are covered

with a fair amount of graffiti

but I still love you,

 

I still do.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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