Decay

Don’t open the little box.

Don’t ruin the memory.

I don’t want to know what it will look like now,

After all of these years.

I see it as it was—

I see what made me smile:

Color,

Brilliance,

Energy,

Warmth.

Don’t open the little box.

Don’t ruin the memory.

I hate to think what it must look like now,

After all of these years.

Don’t tell me what it has become—

Don’t tell me what I already know.

Crumpled,

Fragile,

Lonely,

Ice.