A box; something that we both need,
More than I ever realised.
I get so afraid that it will be stripped from me.
Afraid sometimes that it will fall into her hands
Though you would never share our box
Not with her
No matter what I say is best.
I've held this box, closed
In my hands
And stared. Wondered.
Why should it matter what is within?
Why do I assume if I open it
That it will ruin us?
For you cannot be ruined
Not by my hands
Unless I strip this box from you...
The box I am afraid of losing.
So we built walls around it,
To protect it from the world and
We built walls around it
And painted them white
So they can paint them again.
And the forth side of the box
Is more beautiful than the rest
For it shows the house which keeps it safe.
No matter how much I burn it.
No matter how much you knock it down.
It stands on still.
Homing them, homing us, homing our box.
Our beautiful box.
There was a time that I doubted our box.
I doubted that it was strong enough.
But now look at our box.
Look at it, the centre of this.
The centre of us.
Look at how it holds the building up.
Look at its strength and how it has survived everything
We have been through.
Maybe things will get worse
Or maybe better
But this box is far stronger than I realised.
So, my love, we cannot lose this box;
I will not let it go.
There are people; so jealous of our box.
Finally I realise they should be. There is no box
Greater than our own.
There are people jealous of the closeness,
Jealous of the time spent nurturing it,
Jealous of the ease of care,
Jealous of the eyes,
What is within?
Something beautiful I'm sure,
But never should we need to open this box.
Our box is perfect.
And it is ours,