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.