there are locked boxes inside my closet

here is fear, loathsome and cold.
with icy fingers that ply the hasp

this one is joy, i bring it out from time to time,
watch it dance around the room

here is anger, with a fire's breath, burning away the sacred
it lives next to the fear, it is a patient one.

this one, love, slipped out when i wasn't looking.
hard to put back, how did it fit inside this tiny box?

i try to shove it back in, but it keeps just spilling out.
slippery love, velvet and warm, is a liquid form
i am unable to contain.