BOXES

Boxes, and boxes of things I thought lost.

Dust settles there, like the dust in my eyes.

Open one up just to see whats inside.

Found the one thing I thought I’d never find.

It was us. In a frame. The glass was cracked.

It was faded. And old. Just like our pact.

What was vibrant, is dull. Shiny to lull.

Discarded here. In this house. Not a home.

Open a few more, might find an echo.

Sitting in tape like it’s just a meadow.

Nothing can grow here, this basements too dark.

Still all these boxes will be torn apart.

It’s not us. A drawing. Made by a child.

It’s colorful. And old. It made me smile.

What was present, is gone. Gift to a con.

It meant nothing. It’s paper. Not a home.

Throw out the boxes, I need them no more.

Like I don’t need you. I walk out the door.

I’ll leave you behind, like the boxes here.

But your already gone, so I don’t fear

Being alone. Collecting dust.

Left to the elements. Covered in rust.

I don’t fear

Being alone. Collecting dust.

Left to the elements. Covered in rust.

Being Alone.

Collecting Dust.

Left to the elements.

Covered in rust.

Boxes and boxes. I give them away.

Will I find them again? Maybe someday.

For now, they’re alone.

Collecting Dust.

Left to the elements.

Covered in.

Rust.