i'm tired.

aren't you?

Pretty boxes are lovely for packing.
Yes, packing.
The itty bitty pieces of your life that is.

Packing stuff like that and locks of hair and babies teeth and hoping, praying, it's all gonna fit into this wee little glossy box.
Hope the rain doesn't get it either.
Not when you hold it like a treasure to your chest and walk out the front door.

Not when you leave it some place where no one will find it.
No one, that is except for wild animals you trust will properly tear all those itty bitty pieces of yourself up.

So that when you're ready, and when you come back to the box.
You'll find that, there's nothing to come back to.
There never was to begin with.