all i want to be is a box in the most inner depths of the closet in an abandoned house.

no one to witness the blunt corners of my being or my head full of dust, 

left to revel in my antiquity and

look, 

my insides are full of the past, so

open me up. i know you want to. 

i am full of misery and things you thought you had forgotten. i am a sight to behold. 

my innards are held together by a crown of thorns and so are yours, they are just

made of different materials.

yours are red and mine take the form of a photograph in black and white: a smiling woman. a ghost who doesn't know he's a ghost just yet.

i apologize,

this was all just so you held my feeble body in your hands for a while. 

now that i've said my piece

i better just hide 

so please, place me quietly where the sunlight doesn't reach and the creak of the wood is only faintly heard 

by those unlucky enough to still be around.

and in the most remote of places,

i just hope to be forgotten. 

-f (21/8/2025)