Why is it
that that box
I put away
under everything
is the only box
I seem to want
to look inside?

But I wrapped it up,
I taped it shut
I made sure it
was all inside;
every piece of
our time together,
bits of paper
with words written;
that were word he once spoke

I purged my soul
I scraped out my heart
I thought that would
take care of my agony
but sometimes it seems
the ache will never leave
the words come flooding
back til I think
I'll drown in them all

If I break the seal
on that box
I will only
persecute my soul,
torture my heart,
rip my life apart.
So why do I keep it?

Because the pain
held inside that box
was the sweetest
misery I've ever
experienced.
The most cherished
time I've spent
with abandonment

That is why
that box shall
remain put away
to be there forever
as my safeguard
of discretion,
my defense
of injustice