note to self:

"what are you doing" i asked blatantly.
he was packing up boxes
every memory, every feeling.
the day at the zoo, how warm he felt
with me near.
packed away in disarray
not labeled, not anything.
just fucking boxes.
"i'm not sure i love you anymore,
but i'll leave these boxes here
so i can know for sure."
i stood there, in this
sad excuse of a relationship we
had built.
i stammered. i made excuses.
and i waited.
the boxes never emptied,
in fact they grew heavier.
everything stayed packed up
for me to wonder,
day by day the boxes grew
more scarce.
"we need to unpack these boxes"
i told him.
sternly; i think.
"i'm not ready to do that
just yet"
and he smiled his crooked smile
so i waited yet again.
but this time i grew tired
and even though all my boxes
were still empty, everything was
out on the table.
when we met, how i fell in love,
how dependent i was,
but i knew,
i'd have to pack up too.
so i did.
but my boxes were labeled
self-disclosure
catharsis
love
and in each went a little bit of us
"What are you doing" he asked
i didn't reply, just continued
slowly
i looked at him and smiled,
"do you want to be with me,
now, just me?" he seemed, stunned.
"not now," and it stung so bad in
my chest my eyes my mouth,
my everything
has anyone ever told you
they didn't want you?
i grinned,
just slightly and
continued to pack. but left
a bit of each in hopes
that maybe, just maybe,
this thing we had built
would work itself out
but it didn't
"where's your trust" he said
and i replied
"i have none for you. anywhere.
i think i lost it."
he looked through all my boxes
made a mess of everything,
"i guess i don't have any"
and he grabbed his boxes, and i grabbed mine
and burned the relationship
we built.