Underneath my bed, you''ll find a box that
holds everything that I've forgotten.
You'll say it was never mine,
and I filled it with passing time.
And there's nothing I can do to change it's rapid course,
"it'll only fill you with drowning remorse."
They'll say.
But I pick and I pry, wondering
what could be inside.
Rolling in my bed, watching
life pass instead.
With eyes wide open, worried
it will always remain
Shut.
So I ask a few friends, a stranger, and you:
Do you have a box, kept hidden, but near?
Of moments long gone, but fill you with fear?
Do you stay awake, all through the night
debating whether or not you should fight?
Do you dream of broken pieces from a different time & place?
Smeared and burned with a ghost of a face?
This box, this box
in which I've forgotten
But cannot seem to forget,
will not leave
my head.
So I smash it on the ground, until I make
sure all the hinges are
completely
unbound.
It opens, quickly and quietly,
so silently
I hear it all at once:
Do you remember the day,
when someone had all the right words to say?
When you were picked up with warmth & laughter,
so you forgot what you were after?
Do you remember your very own touch,
honest, genuine, and never too much?
The slide of a hand within your own,
so tender and kind it becomes a home?
Do you remember the days you let yourself grow,
through cracks and stains painted long ago?
Underneath my bed, you'll find
a box, filled with all that
I'm
becoming.
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 3:28 AM UTC
Underneath my bed, you''ll find a box that
holds everything that I've forgotten.
You'll say it was never mine,
and I filled it with passing time.
And there's nothing I can do to change it's rapid course,
"it'll only fill you with drowning remorse."
They'll say.
But I pick and I pry, wondering
what could be inside.
Rolling in my bed, watching
life pass instead.
With eyes wide open, worried
it will always remain
Shut.
So I ask a few friends, a stranger, and you:
Do you have a box, kept hidden, but near?
Of moments long gone, but fill you with fear?
Do you stay awake, all through the night
debating whether or not you should fight?
Do you dream of broken pieces from a different time & place?
Smeared and burned with a ghost of a face?
This box, this box
in which I've forgotten
But cannot seem to forget,
will not leave
my head.
So I smash it on the ground, until I make
sure all the hinges are
completely
unbound.
It opens, quickly and quietly,
so silently
I hear it all at once:
Do you remember the day,
when someone had all the right words to say?
When you were picked up with warmth & laughter,
so you forgot what you were after?
Do you remember your very own touch,
honest, genuine, and never too much?
The slide of a hand within your own,
so tender and kind it becomes a home?
Do you remember the days you let yourself grow,
through cracks and stains painted long ago?
Underneath my bed, you'll find
a box, filled with all that
I'm
becoming.