dreading the thought
of going back to face the place
that almost sucked us under
into disgrace.
dreading the boxes,
the packing, the depth
of emotion that could be
unleashed, beastly and cold.
I don’t want to go
but I will. By sheer will
I’ll pack up the crap,
the memories, the lies,
the happy and sad.
I’ll work through the tears
and stuff it all in storage,
taking only the best of the best
and the most important.
Then I’ll click that lock shut
and climb in my car
and drive day and night
back to my heart.
I will. I won’t like it
one damn bit
but I will.
