object of my affection

Believe me I tried
I traversed the archives
of my childhood mementos
hoping my gaze would hitch on some relic of old
that would fill me with nostalgia and the desire
to put pen to paper
and write about the object of my affections

I found no such thing
instead I found soft toys that have lost their meaning
as the hands that once held them gingerly
grew careless and calloused
I found dolls I only pretended to like
because they were expensive
and I was grateful to my grandparents
I found notebooks with gibberish
Filled with words I didn’t fully understand how to use in sentence
Stories unfinished because I didn’t find them worth continuing

After days of gruelling self reflection
Still I arrive back at the same conclusion
Though the sentiment was unwelcome
Still I feel as though I am not in possession of an object
worthy of a poem