The Box of Souvenirs

I thought,

If I gave back all those,

Gave away the little things,

That I held on to,

The little things that reminded me,

Of a time that engulfs hope,

A time, I’m reluctant to let go of,

A time, that still keeps me warm,

Amidst the tempests in my mind,

 

I thought,

If I gave back all those,

The tokens, I held on to, greedily,

The favors, the kindness, in a box,

If I gave them back to the owner,

That I would be returning

The memories that still keep me up,

That storms my mind,

In the ungodly hours.

 

Yet last night,

As I woke up to triumph,

Over the room, I’ve chased you away from,

Over a world that was mine alone;

To still find you here…

You were not in the box of souvenirs;

Or the memories, defaced and fading;

You are here,

Wherever I am.

 

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