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Mystery Shoebox

She lives in a box
tied up
and packed away
under my bed

she only comes out on holidays
and rainy days
when the weather is just right
or late at night

i'm always drinking
i'm always drunk
i cant hold my hands together
and i cant keep my brain
from
attempting to figure itself out

but with thought comes
distinction
with hurt comes
mistakes and
when the time comes around
again
to lift her up and out

I find her dusty
aged
just plain staged
I find her
bent on the corners
and printed
discolored
and tinted
from the tears
and the years
when all of our fears
and the distance
held us apart.

All caught up.

I can't help that me met
and I can't help
not going anywhere yet
I'll bet
that when the clouds pass
and I am laying
open wide

you'll quit your late nights
drinking
and being afraid

I'll bet that when I can work the courage
to say what I really
am thinking

you'll stop shuttering
and holding on to everyone you meet

the city honks
and flashes
the nights
are just as cold
as the stares on the street

sentences form themselves
in everybody's heads
but you
you struggle to think