containing you
living under my bed,
and every now and
again you call out
from underneath,
wanting to be let out.
Unlocking the golden latch,
I cautiously open the chest
and try to keep you
from spilling out into
my room,
with no luck.
You speak to me days of
dreaming,
secret plans no more,
lost in photos and potent poetry.
Tears wind up running down
my cheeks, tethered
ropes of mascara
latching from eyelash to chin,
so my hands place you gently back within.
I
keep you locked away for better days.
But
tonight was not so. 
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