This Gray, Unfortunate Place (2)

24 - The Boxes

I've been stuck 

avoiding the boxes that 

hoard themselves up in my room.

I'm not the worst guy on her mind,

but if I was,

I wouldn't mind. 

The bad attention 

might make me 

feel like I'm a person.

I get lost 

in the cosmos 

and I can't find 

my way back. 

The box beside me-

It's messy

and I don't know where I am sometimes.

If I look up at the sky,

that won't tell me 

anything worthwhile,

'cause we all share-

We all share

the same night. 

She's somewhere 

in the states, hiding.

She's found a job

while I'm still pining.

Writing letters,

which I'll never send her,

has become my new hobby. 

All the captions

under my photographs

are things that I want to stay,

over the grave 

of my memory,

when I get too old to play.