When I cannot say what I cannot say,
Surrounded by the dusty boxes of yesterday,
With teardrops of days gone by,
Dry, salty stains over all.

I think of you…

In the fear of the unknown,
I wish I could tell you like I used to,
That every time I stand on the edge of change,
Afraid of losing myself in the future,
I think of you in every tear that falls,
And I wish for wishes I have no right to.

With each box I open, condense, and pack away,
With each day that fades and brings me closer to my fate,
Whatever it may be, I feel an ending drawing near,
An ending to all childish things,
And I wish that I could find some tangible remnant of you,
I’d dust it off, hold it close,
And whisper all my hopes, fears, reservations…

Often when I find myself here,
Amongst so many boxes, opening, closing, resealing,
I remember what it felt like,
Like the pain that comes from a high impact,
It is not felt at first, like a denial,
But in time it resounds in waves through the body,
Sometimes causing irreparable changes,
And the body adapts, sometimes for years,
Never the same.

This is what it felt like to lose,
I hold this feeling as it echos into the past,
And bounces back through me into the future,
I see how it colors my path,
And I whisper to your ghost,
That I have yet to encounter an injury deeper than this,
That I am afraid to,
But I am taking a chance,
Knowing that if it happens it happens,
And you, my departed one, are the only one that knows.

My future is in the cornfields,
And even though I am afraid to fail,
I take heart in this loss,
For it has made me try even harder,
Love without expectation,
Do what I never knew I could.

With the last of these boxes,
I pack away the pieces of you that linger,
And I hope to be able to speak to another like this,
Again, one day…