i have a steel box kept in the dust.
there are some pills, two orange safety pins, his first note to me, a ring which he wore with his blue pyjama on saturdays, and lies the lollipop he once spit out because he didn't like the flavour.
i picked it up and said that ill eat it because i loved it? i wrapped it around with a crumpled brown paper and preserved it.
it still has his saliva around it and i love it because i have with me a preserved a part of his body part. and it makes me happy because i could never have him on a whole.
i kept the safety pins, which he used to tie my bun when i asked him to, because it reminds me of his fingers that tickled my back when he slid my hair to pin my top. i sometimes use it to bleed my arms when there are no pills around and i can't sleep. i hurt myself because the blood from the pins help me. help me weep better because thinking of him sometimes dries up my tears and i feel it's an injustice if i don't shed it enough for him.
i read the note in pink coloured slip each time i see him with the brown eyed girl, it soothes me because i'm sure he never wrote such notes to anyone else but me, because i remember how much he hated writing and he wrote that to me when he saw me crying for the first time
and each time i read the note, i just pray that she never cries in front of him.
on rainy nights, i pretend that he seeps in through my window to help me wear his ring. and i like thinking that way because i always told him i wanted it like this. on one saturday night, he kissed me and put this on my index finger, said he'll put it again when it'll rain.
rain did occur after 3 months but he had already left.
and i suck on that lollipop too, sometimes,
because that way, it makes me feel i tasted his mouth, allover again.
i miss him, and i just cannot discard the steel box because it has him,
small parts of him, saved in a box, close to me. ***
The pain of not being able to move on: The psychosocial stage of intimacy vs isolation.
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Hay veces que no puede quitar ciertos elementos, tal cual son los cables que puedo decir en ocasiones me estorban para capturar un buen paisaje. ¿Qué hacer con ellos?
Acostúmbrate a verlos o tómalos a tu favor.
Ahora los miro y pienso que es un pentagrama musical al que le quitaron dos líneas; hay aves de distintos colores que vienen y se posan en ellos, y le dan sentido a una pieza que alguien podría interpretar. 🤷🏻♂️😅🎼🤔😂🎧