Our love in a box

I’m putting our love in a box, those complete twenty-years and some. I’m putting our love on standby until we both know what life wants. I’m hurt, a stale frustrated, full of glitch words shouldn’t be a justification to break those vows that we took. But life is unfair and its karma comes back as an end of a tale.

I’m putting our love in a box, until wounds are healed, and shitty words disappear. If I’m putting our love in a box, my life on hold, I should learn to be brave and deal with fear, yes that fear of losing everything, or the fear of winning it all.

I’m putting our love in a box, because it freaking hurts so much to see you leading someone else into your life, to see you being in love, me waiting at the bed, waiting for that pity talk, waiting to end. It does ache with a despicable icky feeling and a twist for hope.

I would like to put our love in a box, in order to enjoy ourselves, to make our last days, or the following days a hell of a ride, full of laughs, adventures, curiosity, to share our kids’s life, our family life that we have built over the past two decades because home life should continue to run without a grob. It is worth it to seal that box until we both know what we want from us: body, mind, ugly faces, bad temper and all the many other flaws that we share.

It does feel that our love has been in a box for a long time, a delusional tempted stain of pain, yes indeed, it has been in a box. It will stay there until we are ready to decide, to take it out or to seal it for evermore.