I built a box in my heart.  It formed gradually over the course of years, over a series of disappointments.  Waiting is a taxing occupation, and support is required.  What is a box, but a support system?  It holds things in.

Sometimes I miss this or that, and I wonder where it went.  It’s in the box.  There are thoughts in the box.  Emotions.  I think I may have mislaid about 20 IQ points in the bottom, they were stuck to the thoughts and emotions I’ve stored away.  Surely they have to be somewhere?  I remember being brighter than I am. 

Words.  I put away all my words.  I write seldom now, I don’t have anything to say – yet.  I’ve literally lost words, they go missing for hours and then pop back up.  Ordinary words, words I know well.  I’m pretty sure they slip into the cracks as I pass by.  There are consequences to building a box.

It’s easy to misuse a box, leaving it closed past the expiration date.  And it’s easy for me to say that – all the things in this box I want very, very much.  There are no nightmares here.  My treasures are put away because the sweet pain of wanting is too much for me to hold, at least for as long as I’ve been holding it. 

I cannot wait for the day that I bash my box open.  My anticipated lack of control is a pleasurable thought, a wisp I slide between my fingers before stowing that as well.  When – oh, I know the shape of the key, just not when it will be delivered.

I’m of a mind to shake the box a bit, listen to my dreams rustle around.  Perhaps a few IQ points will sift out, like dust?  There’s only one way to find out…………….