The whir of a VCR,
bzzzzzzzz
the automatic release is broken.
Pop it out,
into the case,
tucked away into a chest.
Dark brown wood,
dust.

Bear.
Crumpled rug,
goofy face,
he's from outer space.

Jealousy,
it doesn't belong,
because there is no belonging (anymore),
only longing.

A metaphor:
A barren hill,
is it greener on the other side?
I climb it still,
find a rock and want to hide.
Inside it's dark,
hollow,
off the tree falls the bark,
Yearn to follow.

It's over now,
both that and the before,
I need more,
But I don't know how.