"You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone."

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

There's a box
that I've had since I was
fourteen years old
and it is full of letters and
love letters I never sent
love letters people gave me
and goodbye letters
a few IDs and photos
that pain me to look at
and drawings
poetry that a man once
wrote to me
or about me
because thankfully
my last name was easy to rhyme with.
There's a letter from a man who claimed
I was the love of his life
and that he would never want any one
else, even though I'd broken his heart.
I don't know if that is still true
but I hope it is not.
There are notes between me and
my friends, because once we were in
our final year of high school
all we did was pass notes and
talk about everything and sometimes
I kept them and put them
in the big brown cigar box
because one day there will be a book
but for now, there is a box.
I keep the painful memories,
along with the beautiful ones,
locked in a box
or alternately on files
with strange names.
I really should print them out and put them
in the box, too.
Maybe I'll do that tomorrow.
I haven't put anything in the box
in eight months
and that means that sometimes you
have to have hard copies of things that
made you cry
and that is what the box is for.
You can open it for an hour
and be entertained
or horrified
or just to remember love
and then close it.
and it will be gone until you decide to bring it back.

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