GloPoWriMo: Day XXV: That Box in the Corner

There is a small chest that lies
Somewhere in my living room
Always kept, often forgotten
In the corner by the broom

Stained wood and faded polish
Rusty hinges and creaky handles
With drips of white paint
And dried wax from old candles

It is most unremarkable
Which is something quite ironic
Bought as it first was
Because it looks quite iconic

Like something that could hold secrets
Or protect old memories from harm
Now it lies there, half empty
Half full of its original charm

It has those little edges
That scratch me when I lift it
And contents that shuffle
Like wheat when it’s sifted

I can’t quite picture it now
Though I try and I try
Which is ironic for a box
That holds memories gone by

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(Un)familiar

What is this place most unfamiliar?
These four walls within which I find myself
Why does it bring back memories
Of a life belonging to someone else?

Is that where I would sit
And think of what once was
Is that where I once laid my head
And stole moments with lovers long-lost

Are those my books lying scattered
In the corner on the floor?
Are those my painful memories
Locked in the trunk by the door?

Why does my heart resist
To let in what loudly knocks?
Why does it build these walls?
Why does it place these locks?

Why does this land feel so alien?
It feels no longer mine
I thought home would be home for always
Home where the sun always shined

Is this madness or ennui?
Am I stolen from my past?
Or has the being so far changed
That what was long gone is gone at last

I feel uneasy in this shell
Of the man that was left behind
It no longer fits that well
It constricts and it binds

What is this face most familiar?
In the mirror at me it stares
I remember those eyes
I remember those wares

This is a man I knew long ago
In these walls he did reside
His memories still linger here
In the shadows he still hides

When I left long ago
It seems some bridges were burned
What is this place most familiar?
And can I ever return?

NaPoWriMo – Day III – Time

25 years, 6 months and 12 days,
the time that I have walked this earth

Time is a symbol

4 months and 22 days,
the time since I last saw my mother’s face

Time is at once both a healing and divisive thing

2 day and 11 hours
the time since my heart was last broken

Time is mysterious and at the same time so purely simple

2 years and one month,
the time since my heart was last whole

Time moves on whether we can or not

2 day and 12 hours,
the time since I last cried

Time goes forward without us, despite us, beyond us

10 years, 2 months and 23 days,
the time since I last cried and did not feel ashamed

Time is slave to none and in the end, master of all

12 hours,
the time since I last told a lie

Time in endless and yet passes in the blink of an eye

2 day and 16 hours,
the time since I last smiled

Time is a measure of our lives, and a reminder that it will end

Unknown,
the time since I last smiled and meant it

Time is everything and it is nothing

Time is a lie