by

Shoebox Poetry: Blurry Eddie

You carve our names “E+K”
into the ancient oak behind
your daddy’s church in hopes
I’ll see, but I’ve grown 
tired of playing your endless

games. My drawers overflow with
your teeny-tiny top-secret 
messages penned on newspaper scraps—
“I miss you,” “meet me
behind the old Bulto Market,”

and “kiss me, dearest Kate,
I’m dying for you.” Just
words. I need more than
blue-eyed winks and brief
hidden embraces. My love needs

sunshine—warm, bright, radiating fire
so vibrant it can’t be
stoppered or hidden. Explosive volcano
love, running thick down our
bodies. Popcorn love, loud hot

buttery passion devoured with both
hands. Instead, you give me
your blurry photograph standing at
301 Caroline Street, our secret
kissing place. You write in

sweeping curvy letters “this is
not very clear, but it’s 
still me. Eddie.” Blurry love
is what you offered, thinking 
I’d accept, but I deserve

someone who wants our love
to be broadcasted, shouted, screamed
into the streets. Bullhorn loud
love. Free to be me
love. So, I chased you

onto the old bridge, calling
out through hot tears, “choose 
all of me or none 
of me.” The bright moonlight 
stretched my dark shadow so 

it covered you entirely as 
you walked away without looking 
back. My young love never
wavered, but yours wasn’t brave
enough to fight. It’s funny

now, finding your thoughtless dare
scrawled in ink, “see how
long you can keep this.”
I kept it forever, blurry
Eddie. Not for you, though

for me.

I stayed in focus.


Shoebox Poetry: This is the second poem in my series based on an old box of photos I inherited when my grandmother died in 2004. I don’t have any idea who Eddie was, but I wanted to rewrite a possible old love story as a moment of empowerment for my grandmother. She was a fierce woman and I like to think she kept this photograph as a reminder of her strength. If someone out there happens to know Eddie, sorry. This is pure fiction and I’m sure he is/was a lovely man.

31 thoughts on “Shoebox Poetry: Blurry Eddie”

  4. Lovely & beautiful photo. Amazing words write in latter. I like.
    So love memories in Shoebox Poetry written you. So lovely & inspiring word use in poetry.
    I like much, Bridgette!

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  7. This is was gorgeous to read. Honestly it felt like i was sitting under an oak tree, reading the yellow crinkled pages and faded pictures that I discovered hidden in a tree hole. I love this series of yours, can’t wait to read more of it💕

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  13. This is truly wonderful and touching, Bridgette. I could feel Kate’s frustration as she thought about their relationship that was. It’s beautifully worded and written. It’s great to let our imaginations wander when writing about an old photo where you can’t know the real story behind them. I think you captured the mood of the postcard and photo perfectly.

    I found my old photo – the one I’ve been looking for. I already have a draft ready, so will publish my piece later or tomorrow. Love to you, my friend. Xx 🥰💖😘

    Liked by 1 person

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