The Box

In my closet there is a box

All it does is collect dust

This box holds all my trust

I try not to think about it

I’m happiest when I forget

To leave behind all my regret

It’s been almost 2 years,

As my fingers close around it

I can feel my emotions fall in their endless pit

My tears were trying to escape

But i couldn’t let them leave

As I realized I had forgotten to breathe

Pulling the box open slowly,

The rush of the moths* within me stirred

It’s about time to be cured

Inside was a paper

The colors that once were bright

Had now faded, like trying to hide from sight

It was now I let the tears meet freedom

This painting that once seemed sweet,

Was so bitter, the feeling spreading from my head to my feet

I miss him, I really do

Two years following 10

I wish he could paint for me again

Author Notes: *moths instead of butterflies

Recommend Reviews (1) Write a ReviewReport