Cluttered room, piles of clothes on a queen-sized bed that rarely gets made.
A desk full of papers & pictures she hasn't looked at in over a decade.
Cabinets, book shelves full of candles & nick-knacks,
books she's never read - hard cover & paperbacks.

She looks under her bed, pulls out a locked box.
Finds envelopes stuffed with letters from best friends & admirers she had almost forgot.
She hasn't seen or spoken to the friends in many years -
they said their friendship would be strong forever, would never disappear...
The admirers have since found themselves wives & have some kids,
but re-reading these letters, it stirs up vague illusions of what might have once been,
A romance almost sparked but never ignited.
A life that once existed, if but briefly,
but never was or will be.

Now, amongst all the "things" she has collected & stored,
She wonders to herself: "Why am I so bored?..
How did I let those times get away from me?
Why have I forgotten so much?
What do I have to show for all the time that has gone by?
How do I get it back?
Why do I feel like nothing & everything has changed all at once?"...

She puts the envelopes in the pile of stuff she no longer needs. She fills the bag with trash. Clears the bed & slowly drifts to sleep...alone.