a box of you

i keep the memories of her stored away in this little box, somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind. once a year i will take it out, dust off the cobwebs and the laughter, the banter, her unique way of interaction, her familiarity, all the flashes of my eighteen years with her spill out uncontrollably.

i see it in the window of my mind like clips of a short video. i watch it like a nonchalant bystander. the heart which i have quieten so long ago stirs with flickering of sadness.

i have since learnt to put up a floodgate. incase the surge pushes me over the brink. incase i cant return to sanity and to reality.

today is her birthday. i now see her only once a year because i have grown weak. i cant keep going to the deepest darkest pit in my mind and climb out unscathed, pretending that i am alright and move on with the world. i dont dare to confront my own self, my emotions, after i have been with her. i put it all back in the box and wait for another year.

she is the same. she is there. but not there, yet is still there. i know she listens. i can feel her consciousness as if it were my own. i wish i can do more. but i have learnt through my frustration that there are some things that you cannot change no matter how hard you tried.

i love you.