Victoria D
'What's With The Box'
05/04/2026
I open a cardboard of memories
dust breathes from sealed corners
each shoe a version of me
names I outgrew still whisper
time folded like worn paper
I am inventory of selves
the box remembers what I forgot
but it is empty when I look inside
WINTER is...
Wearing woolly jumpers,
Inside days,
Nose-tip dripping,
Table games,
Early off to bed,
Reading books.
WINTER is...
Wiggling toes warming up
In my room as the heater blows.
Noses are nippy out in the cold.
Try on the boots: “Too small!” “Too old!”
Eating a pie with lots of sauce... and then...
Running off with a soccer ball.
AUTUMN is...
Apples,
Umbrellas,
Trees
Un-leafing,
Moonlit
Nights.
AUTUMN is...
Apples, crisp and sweet;
Umbrellas up in the rain;
Trees turning red, gold, orange;
Untamed leaves that dance;
Marrows and pumpkins ripening;
Nests now empty – some fall...
SUMMER is...
Swimming,
Unwinding,
Melting
Moments.
Enjoy it.
Relax...
SUMMER is...
Swimming
Under a wide blue sky;
Munching
Many mangoes;
Eating melting ice-cream before it drips on my belly;
Running barefoot on burning sands all the way back to the hot hot car.
SPRING is...
Sunshine
Petals
Rosebuds
Insects
Newness
Green!
SPRING is...
Sudden sunshine,
Pretty petals,
Red roses,
Insect itches
New nests,
Green grass growing...
They kept finding different ways to lynch us
Oh we're still spectacles
They just watch from their smartphones
Watching as we struggle
Watching us be tackled
They don't see us as victims
Just waiting for a pundit
To say we deserve it
Let's not forget about the 13th ammendment
Instead of being slaves they just entered our names in the system
As an excuse to reduce us to numbers
Instead of being slaves we were just labelled as criminals
Technically 'slavery' was abolished
So instead of being whipped
We were punished
With imprisonment
They just found a loophole
A different form of control
Don't get me started on the education system
A place where our history is hidden
A place of division
And preferential treatment
Of a certain race of students
They do it just enough
To remind us of our place in this institution
A constant reminder of how we will never fit in
All because our skin which triggers their racism
If you think racism has ended
Then you're choosing ignorance
You need to be educated
But us black people won't do it
I have too many regrets
they bloom like tumors
in the soft tissue of memory,
each one pulsing with
what I should have said
before silence set in
like rigor mortis.
I swallowed whole versions of myself
the reckless, the brave,
the boy who ran
before the door slammed shut.
Now I speak in echoes
of things I almost did.
I wear lives
that were never mine
borrowed skin
stitched with trembling hands.
Time doesn’t pass.
It repeats.
A loop of almosts,
a static scream
beneath my breath.
I reach for moments
already burning.
Beg the past
to hold still
while I cut it open
and try to crawl inside.
But every thread frays.
Every version unravels.
Every choice I didn’t make
drags a knife
through the one that did.
And what’s left?
This composite ghost.
This broken archive.
This aching
palimpsest of a person
who once believed
he had time.
Sorted in a cult, the moment you open your eyes
one of the many things you don’t choose
inclusion is what each one tries,
by learning the culture, customs and taboos.
Grow up with each other together
a while later, the innocence fades.
When each one finds themselves better
downhill humanity cascades.
They shout slogans and create unrest.
Bigoted minds an empty heads.
Only thought incepted the best,
to create disruption and hate that spreads.
Some minds are easier to influence
usually ones who don’t use their own.
When religions at core have no difference
each one sees, what versions they are shown.
If only ,humanity was often preached
And being religious meant being spiritual more.
We would keep at bay, evils that lurched
And create a world better than before.
V1.
County jail-revolving door-your home
V2.
Criminal reform
is a revolving door
between the county jail
and your home
there are no virgins
despite popular belief
always a pleasure
The version you had of me
Never existed
Just an illusion
You created.
The story never ends
I exist in different shades
Hidden behind masks
Or wearing tinted glasses.
Mind games
Spells to entice
Cards played right
A hidden fire ignites.
In that very moment
When it matters the most
It’s vital that I own it
Yet when my wisdom ghosts
It turns me to a liar
Though I never meant to be
I try and calm the fire
But all arson points to me
I’m flustered and confused
By those who sing my praises
They assure me, I’m not bruised
But my wounds appear in phases
There’s no telling when I’ll soar
Or when I’ll make you proud
I may just hit the floor
If the voices get too loud
It cannot be predicted
Which version will appear
Or which will be evicted
I represent whoever’s here
why is it that i am
left f o r s a k e n-
fear has buried me
in an abandoned forest
of barren trees
each leaf that
has fallen upon the
infertile ground,
shows how l o n e l y
i truly am
a vestige of hope in visceral veins
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12.11.19
-luloo
You were love’s surprise versed in romantic delight.
Your love secured me cuddled and rapport entwined
each time our hearts took time to flesh comfort align.
I felt our lives were meant to fast coupledom attach
in our own signature dressed, love expressed indicators.
Then, time witnessed and felt our adhesiveness contort
from the soul corrosion you brought and skewed forth
to seal us in burdened versions of darkened emotions.
I live suspended between a confused sphere retreat
and a subconscious residence in Neverland’s release.
(V1) She mastered fatigue like a bible that hadn't opened for awhile
(V2) Like a bible that hadn't opened for awhile she mastered fatigue
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.