Bound up and boxed in
Each way forward blocked
I feel as if I’m forced to be a parasite
Able to do less and less as time marches on
How can all this happen if I’m not being prepared for death
Shall I never see my child again?
I’ve always felt time was short
Never enough time,
I am running out
But it’s going nowhere
A wall in every direction
It’s closing in on me
One day the top will close, too
Written 6/8/2015, just a week after my lover was buried (on my bday) and about a month after I’d moved across the country, leaving behind my kid and their dad to find better work.
I did it, baby. We made it. The top closed and we never have to open that box unless we want to.