Not a Skeleton, But Still in the Closet

I keep all the gifts you gave me in my closet now. (Isn't that ironic?)

Well, I can't bear to show them on my bookshelf anymore, because I can no longer want you, no longer see you with the same dumb, goo-ga eyes blind from glasses tinted in rose.

I folded up your kisses, the curve of your lips, the sound of your sighs in the depths of my mind and deadbolt them shut.

I keep the twinkle of your eyes in the lowlight, the feel of your hand in mine, the sound of your snort right at the surface.

I love you, want the best. Truly.


And you're so gorgeous in and out. Please don't allow these ghouls splatter their ruddy shades of grey paint on your masterpiece of a soul.

Don't allow your anger to corrupt it either.

Thank you for being there when my own thoughts were eating me inside out. Thank you for holding my hand, kissing the hurt away.

Thank you for being the cynical, crazy, lovable you.

You were and always will be my best friend.


That day, I was brave enough to laugh, cry, imagine one last time before delicately placing the memories away.

And one day, maybe you will be brave enough to drag your body bag of bones and blood out of the closet... and maybe, your life will be more radiant in the sunlight's glow then the phantom fluorescent.