By Anon

I thought that I could lock you out

out of my mind.

After you took the key we shared and threw it into the Charles.

Now the key that weighs in my pocket does not fit.


Like my memory.

The key used to open our box.

It was a small and humble wooden box, blossoming like a sycamore tree.

Like the love we exchanged at the end

of winter and into those mild days of spring.

Those days were bliss.

I was unaware that the treasures inside our box

Would soon rot, like fruit gone bad in a round bowl.

Either way, I know that I should throw away this obscure key and try to

Carry on, be myself.

But you keep invading.

It’s like a harsh intervention into my day,

Much like the approach you took last Friday in the car – cut throat.

I am trying that old cliché of “moving on”.


There you are.

On my wall




Images of a life that I no longer belong in.

The invasions come into my day

When I least expect.

A photo pops up,

I usually stare numbly at your face, your

Beautiful, perfect face.

There you are smiling,

But without me by your side.

Back when our box was open we never got many pictures together,

something that makes me doubt that we were even a “we”.

We were more of a live-in-the-moment couple.

Do we even qualify as a “we” after all this time?

or was I just hallucinating?

I must be psychotic.

Maybe that’s why he stares at me with wide eyes as I cry,

Shocked that any emotions fill this vessel of a body.

But alas the photos come, followed usually by cheesy one-liners that say “come on, be grateful.”

These one-liners once had me swooning,

made you seem perfect,

That soft heart, the warm smile, serving others

I ate that shit up.

So when Sunday came and I saw your photo pop up

The walls of my heart squeezed and my subconscious told me

“Like it, you know you do.”

So fortunate those good friends held me back from myself in weak moments like this.

I walked home afterwards hoping that something would happen.


that would allow me to feel more than this numbness.

Something did happen,

We were chased home by a likely intoxicated man.

My heart had not beat that fast since Wednesday night before

when you held me in your arms and uttered back softly a response that I had expected, for months,

Since you tried to say it that night in your car way back.

Was this what had shut our box?

The ultimate vocal declaration that I whispered in delicate confidence that night.

Your response must have felt like shards of glass escaping your mouth,

Unlike the liquid gold that flowed from mine.

Your words are still glass, still sting

like a fresh carpet burn on a young child’s knees.

When the incoherent man harassed and followed us through the street that night,

I thought of nothing but that moment.

Like I have thought of nothing but you since.

As the adrenaline pumped through my veins

I thought of the options I had to protect my vulnerability.

In the end I chose



You know this course of action well,

This you have proven.

That was the last time

I truly went through a moment of my day,

without faltering in my thoughts.

Without your interruptions