Love

Kept in a beating box

Tied with a bow

Locked with a lock that only you know.

Is it really love in there?

Or is there just coldness and inconsequent?

I will never know

–and neither will you.

You may hold the code

But you do not possess the will

Or the courage

You treat it like a simple unit of storage.

You open it only to toss things in

Grudges, anger, insecurities.

But did you ever reflect

On its contents?