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The box in the top of my closet
Take my memories.
Take them and put them in a box.
Maybe the same box as I have stored our pictures. Our pictures and tokens of love, and letters, and notes, and wristbands from fairs many summers ago.
Take my memories.
Put them next to the Mackinac island map and the pretty rocks from the beaches.
Put them next to the pictures of us and the necklace you gave me.
Take my memories.
Put them next to the shirts you got me from South Carolina and the first flowers you gave me.
With that
Take my memories. Take my box.
Take it to top of the closet, in the darkest corner, in a spot where I can not reach.
With that
let my memories become nothing but pictures.
let them collect dust and dirt.
let them fade with time.
let them have scratches on the face and holes from bugs.
let me forget till I remember,
but I hope I never do
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About a first love that went sour, as quickly a milk curdles.