A Box of Your Things

I’ve never been better
And the pain doesn’t ache
With the tears
Or hugging myself to sleep
No not like that anymore
I’ve moved it into a fresh box
In the attic
There’s no dust on its lid
Because sometimes I like to go up and look inside
Everyday I think
It’s right there in the attic
And I know that in time
I won’t think about it like I am now
And eventually I’ll move out of this house
I’ll sell it at a yard sale for a quarter
A stranger will buy it
And I’ll think
Oh right I used to love this thing
But I’m finished now

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: