In the Closet Again...

A box shut tight and tucked away in the dark Contains evidence of what makes her feel real Costumes of moments where mascara mixed tears Of happiness were daily revealed. Where high heeled boots and rainbow laces Met fish net and lace wrapped thighs, Black nails covered in glitter caressed sin And fingers brushed random colors out of her eyes. Sleeping till three in the afternoon without worry Never knowing which face I would see when I woke But knowing that who ever it was would be smiling Because they were all those happy hippy folk. How I miss them, the playful endless debates On random chairs and in random smokey rooms. Only enjoying the minutes that were at hand Never minding the future that loomed. But now that I am here, and I look back to see Society says I should pity, but instead I envy Those that never had life force them to leave behind That utter freedom and lack of reality… So sometimes I dig out that box and look inside After I have put the whole house to sleep And I take it with me to the bathroom and I dress up and pretend to be me.