All that remains of you, sits in a little box on my dresser. I don't dare open that box, because I don't want the memories, but I keep it, because I won't give up. I keep that small box, that holds you, in my heart. It's with me wherever I go, knocking at the back of my head. Every step I take leads me to a different place. A place where you're sitting on my shoulder, guiding me around. You tell me what's right, and help me make the difficult decisions. That little box holds so much, yet is so little. That little box hold my past life, the things I used to be. That little box holds things that cam from you, look like you, feel like you; things that are you.
No comments:
Post a Comment