As soon as I read that, I thought of a poem I wrote back when I was in college, back when I was writing (or attempting to write) poetry on a regular basis. I wrote it in a fancy book that I wrote most of my poetry in, a pretty faux leather book with gold accents. I now have a Kindle cover somewhere that looks a bit like that poetry book.
The poem was about someone I once thought was significant in my life, and I suppose he was – as a sort of catalyst, though… Not as someone I would spend more than about half a year going back and forth in a dysfunctional non-relationship with.
I attempted to translate that stupid poem into Russian, but it was lost in translation, somehow. So I didn’t wow my Russian teacher that summer with my Pushkin-like talent.
Almost could be the story of my life, though. So close to so many things, but never quite attaining them.