Deeply Personal, part two

and X months later, things fell apart before my eyes. the pen was my only guide in the ensuing confusion.

so we were sitting there

in the Comfortable Box

which had grown

itchy like a too-woolly sweater

uncomfortable

but it was

OUR BOX

dammit!

or rather,

my box…

with him in it

light was poking in

but he was hurting out

cried and cried and cried

i cried

but we repaired the rips

and snags

and holes

and tears,

the tears.

all that remained,

ropes, webs,

strings tied round

his legs

casual comfortable box

was dragging him,

smothering me

and then he broke

LOOSE!

but not quite,

because i said

i loved him.

no longer to be found,

the box had disintegrated

and the fresh air

violently

whipped across my face.

but now there is a free range,

wild mustang herd screaming

down the sides of the hills

but we lie in the grass,

watching the sky,

hearing the snorts and thunder

but still unaware

apart but freely clinging to each other,

on this,

our passionate frontier