Glamour

It's glamorous isn't it? The idea of death.

So high maintenance in fact, the missing bottle they never knew, exists in an offering of remorse.

I say glamorous because these small round anxiety producers labeled "relievers" lay inside that little red box.

Earrings of course.

So glamorously hidden inside the only gift I can remember receiving that felt like a weapon.

Maybe a thought, I can't forget.

But now I have earrings.

You say " I can't wait until I get to see you again"

I think about the box.

"I love you" 

I think it's not as full as it used to be.

"You're beautiful"

Maybe I could stay like that.

You know the box spills out sometimes.

I've wondered what getting rid of the contents might look like... I wouldn't.

But maybe the most glamorous idea is that I could.