haha. just found a poem i wrote about ex's...i dont know why that box is there at the end tho...

[broadwaychic333]

I was cleaning your room

hanging your shirts

matching your socks

folding your underwear

and under there

the farthest nook

the separated corner

a black box

and no,

not like on an airplane

recording the last screams

before a crash

but one with a simple

unlocked

latch.

Just so simple to open

and so difficult to pretend

that I didn’t see it

see what?

I don’t know yet,

so I have no choice

but to open it, right?

I don’t know how,

but I knew before

the lid opened

that I didn’t really want to see

what was inside

but once the existence is known

it must be examined.

the lid hit the floor

folded papers tried to escape

love  always  cant live without you

words jumped out of the box

to attack me

and I slam it shut!

But

that isn’t the end

of this relationship

this box and I have further to go

and no

I can’t do it sober

fuck you

don’t judge me.

So I smoke a bowl

and open the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc

that you bought for us

to drink together.

I have a glass and pour another

and that black box

looks different now.

It has a toolbox logo

and the latch

is just plastic

and the corner of the closet

is not so far away.

so I don’t pray

for strength

I just open the cheap plastic box

full of the remains

of a cheap plastic ex.

He wrote her letters

and I wonder

if the little things

are really continuations

of the love he learned

to show with her.

Did he do those little things

that he does with me

the nick names

the tickle fights

the things that are so pathetic

we would never admit them to anyone

has he done that all before

and given my favorite moments

to someone else in the past?

are they her favorite moments?

and I cant cant cant

avoid the burning question

that any woman

and any lover would want to know

at some point or another

but we really don’t want to know

the true answer

because this feels like the only thing we have.

am I better in bed?

I am better in bed

right?

I am more fun to touch

and I do look better in you shirt

and I do have a sexier moan

and better lingerie

and I ride you better than she ever did

right?

right?

cause any answer other than yes

would result in my crumbling to pieces

but you wouldn’t deserve to see it

so I would have to conceal it

and im not sure I could do it

so say yes

and mean it

because quite frankly

I need it

and deep down you know its all true

and quite frankly I know it too.

mmm…this wine is going to my head

and to think that earlier

I masturbated in your bed

thinking of you

was she doing it too?

fucking ass Christ

what if she really was

at the same time as I

what if we came at the same exact time?

and more importantly

would he find that hot?

and not just because men are pigs

but truly from knowing

the deeper side of each

of us

would he be turned on.

and hypothetically

if I weren’t so possessive

and he was never truly in love with her

would we get along?

would we have anything in common?

or god forbid

would I be attracted?

would I want to fuck her?

no. never

I keep trying to remind myself

that he tells me

he wants to marry me

and takes a picture of me

everywhere he goes

he taught me to open up

to love unconditionally

and I must continue to.

I finish my second glass of wine

and pour another.

A few sips into that

I feel ready to read the love notes

her writing is so cold

and I notice the date

is nineteen

ninety eight.

The pictures sting

and the love you outpoured

but overall

it is all kept

in a cheap container

not anything substantial

and there is an overwhelming

anger in that box

I close it up

and take a hit

shut the latch

and bury it.

back in the corner

where I abandoned my cleaning

hung the last of your sweatshirts

closed the closet door.

ok, I admit

I cried for minute

or seven

but I did realize

high school romance is everything

in the moment

it stops the world

and changes your life

you feel undying love

and heartbreaking agony

devotion and promises

but keep in mind

at the same time

it really means nothing

it never lasts

its looked back on as puppy love

I thought I knew love

it isn’t real

sorry sweetie

but you lost

I have him now

when it really matters

you are kept in a cheap plastic box

while I sit in his bed

and my clothes are in his drawer

and my scent is on his pillow

mine

is the call he answers.