literature

Contained.

Deviation Actions

Published: Jan 19, 2013

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Literature Text

^{I keep a container next to my bed,
and every morning when I first wake up
I'd write down my dreams on sticky-notes,
fold them and put them in the container.
At the end of every week I open it up
and look inside, I spread the notes out
on the floor and I notice that every
piece says, "you."

There's a place I go when I don't know
what to do or how to act, it's behind
my house and across the river. The tree
that we planted is still there, brimming
with beauty and still alive, unlike us,
and what we had.

I still have the letter you wrote me,
it's in my box, where I keep everything
dear to me. I would hang it on my wall next
to my bed, but I wouldn't want my mother to
see it. She would just talk ill of you.
Something that I don't ever want to hear,
because even though you left, I still look
at you and see perfection.

I've tried tying an invisible rope around the
memories of you and hanging them until they
didn't exist anymore, but the image of you
sitting on the gravel with your guitar and
your cigarette paralyzes me. You knew I hated
the smoke, so you'd blow it in the opposite
direction and wave it away from my face. I think
I know why that one memory in particular hurts
so much, it was living proof that you once gave
a shit.

I keep a container next to my bed,
and every morning when I first wake up
I'd write down my wishes on sticky-notes,
fold them and put them in the container.
At the end of every week I open it up
and look inside, I spread the notes out
on the floor and I notice that every
piece says, "to forget you."}