I keep my box in the back corner of my closet
Behind the shoes and last year's projects
It is a boring little box, wouldn't want anyone who stumbles upon it to think to peek inside
The cardboard is slowly peeling away from itself
Pieces of tape slashed across the top
But the box keeps things neat and tidy
Sometimes I feel like opening it up, ripping the tape off
And sifting through it all to see if anything has changed,
giving everything inside away to interesting people.
But I have seen you make that mistake before
It usually ends in drama
The kind of pain that ruins your mascara
Destroys the walls people have so carefully built
Blasts through sensibility
I keep them in that drab box for one reason only
Emotions are messy
I'd rather not