A dusty old box
        In the depths of your closet
Alongside the forgotten
        Is now brought back into light
Hands start nervously shaking
        You open it once again

Dust                                        
          ­      
                                      slowly
                                                                ­                                     
                           ­                                                                 ­ fall
                          
                           to

                                                                   ­  your

                                                               ­                                                    sides
        A journal
Pages brown from the time passed
        Flipping each page after page
Reminiscing the pa—schwip
        A cut forms on your finger
Stinging ever so slightly
        Only to realize pain
Had been present all along


Resurfacing


Reliving pictures of home
        Fake smiles and faded colors
No trust in one another
        Snapshots of a “family”
Bruises only you can see
        Only God knows what courage
It takes to retrieve what has
        Been hidden away from
Yourself