Soliloquy

I decided to write this poem
On things that you have given me
Which I don’t have with me anymore

But materialistic or intangible
There’s everything inside me now
And there’s this wooden box too

Which contains both of our souls
And the time we exchanged it with each other
In return for fame and a livable life

This wooden box also contains
Memories of a haunted past
Tormented with moments inglorious

Things that were worth fighting for
Things that no longer mean anything
And actions that were always misunderstood

I have often wanted to open it
But there’s a part within me urging me not to
Some objects are never meant to be unboxed

Just as some things should always be left unsaid.
(Why did I even write this poem?)