demons and undies.

I hide demons in my underwear drawer. Yes, the little orange drawer overflowing with undies of different fabrics and colors. You see, the little orange drawer has undies deep under that came from a time I don't even recognize anymore, a time I wish I could erase. The little orange drawer has seen terrors of a life that keeps on haunting me. A life that wouldn't stop plaguing my dreams at night. The little orange drawer hides demons I'm afraid to face, demons I can't face. These demons eat my hope for a future away, like a dementor sucking out all the chances you've built for yourself. The little orange drawer contain notes I've shakingly scribbled. Notes that shouldn't even exist but they do because the only thing I could talk to without being screamed at was paper. These notes contain my downfall, my shame, my misery. I always look back at the demons in that little orange drawer. Wondering when I should open it. Should I still even open it? You see as much as I want to keep my demons locked up tight, I don't think I have it in me not to set them free in front of love. I told myself I'd be honest to love, that I'd show my scars and demons to love. But what if my scars are too rough to look at? What if my demons are too scary to dismiss? What if my soul is too dirty to be loved? So many 'what ifs', and no answers to any of them. I wish I could say that the demons in my underwear drawer don't exist, that they're all part of a bad dream I had at the age of 12, a bad joke, anything bad but not real. Anything but real. But this is my life, this is what happened, and I have that little orange drawer. The brave little orange drawer that holds those demons for me, until I can hold them myself.