For Old Times Sake

December 7, 2011
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In my parents office
On the second floor
Of our house in the city
There's a box
It's a special box
It sits on my mother's desk
In a blue canvas bag
Plain at sight
With cardboard
All six faces
It's what's in
As most things are

Sometimes I'll make myself a sandwich
Grab a soda
And take the box off the desk
In the little office
With the rainbow curtains
And place it on the blue rug
I'll sit cross-legged across
And munch on my sandwich
And drink the soda through a stirring straw
I talk to the box

Tell it everything that's happening
In my life and not
Tell it about school
And the whole, big family
I sing it the songs I write
The songs in voice
The songs from Company
I read it my poems
And my stories
And the quotes I find on fanfiction profiles
It's almost like old times
How it used to be
Back before
And I sit in silence
Trying to hear it speaking back
Sometimes I think I can
Hear it
Tells me about being with its mother
And father
And grandmother
And husband
And everyone else there with it

Maybe the words are just things
My mind creates
To make me feel better
But I like to think that they're real
And that the box is truly happy
That she's happy
The soul that connects
With the contents of the box
The ashes from the thought eternal fire called life
The fire that had left no will or fight
And the flames that ceased to flicker strong and bright
And no longer lit the dark and lonesome filled night

She's up there
The soul
I know it
I sit with the box
And believe it even more
When I put the box back in the blue canvas bag
On my mother's desk
In the rainbow curtain office
On the second floor
Of my house in the city
The box with the ashes
Of my grandmother

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