My Box

 My Box 

The look, its there

for none to see 

but me. 

The way it is 

I can not bear

The darkness is 

for keeps. 

Crumbling the 

organ that gives life.

Piece by piece 

I put them back scurrying

to catch the pieces.

Before any one sees 

the inside.

That I could not bear.

glorification is not there

only submissiveness.

What do you see, 

a whore or consort

I vow it is the one 

before not the last. 

I seek still the imagination

of what should be. 

Knowing this will last 

I have a box that is 

there to keep it all.