archival : moonbox :
No matter where I go
or how I try to escape you,
pieces will always follow me like a shadow.
I can't get away.
Tomorrow I'll see baby blue and white, again,
and I'll have to bite my lip and bear it, regardless.
But worst of all are the parts of my life
that I physically can't pretend never happened,
like some selective amnesic gap.
I can't block out our moon box.
I could burn everything of yours I still clutch close,
destroy all traces of your previous existence
and run from your nearness in this small town
all to escape this eternal hurt...
but I'm discovering slowly that it'll never be enough.
My sister's Moonbox will always be there to remind me of ours.
Our moon box. Our care for each other.
Its filled with love notes you wrote to me,
your three o'clock thoughts,
your words of the future.
Whether you still have your box, I'll never know,
and perhaps if you did end up saving it, do save it,
and you look back on it years from now,
years from this black thunderhead,
perhaps then you'll see why it killed me.