boxes

A piece written during a collaboration. I don't collaborate well...

People put things in boxes.

Some things to keep, others to hide. Some things they want to see again, other things they never want to see again but just cannot seem to get rid of.

Boxes have four corners. Some corners are always darker than others. Some boxes are kept in the darkest corners, never intended to be opened again after they are closed. It seems that it’s enough to know they box is there waiting, or maybe even hoping to be opened.

Though we may never want a box to be opened, all closed boxes are opened again at one time or another by someone. Hopefully it’s the right someone who opens the box.

Sometimes we don’t like what we find in the box, or what we remember. If we don’t want to see what is in a box, maybe we shouldn’t open it.

She had boxes of all kinds.

They were to help her to remember, and not to forget.

As with all memories, some were good, and some were bad. She didn’t really care, she just wanted the memories. She needed them. It was all she had left.

She had boxes in the darkest corners, with the darkest memories. She never wanted to open them again.

Until one day, she had to. She finally had to show someone, let them know.