A fragile empty box of a man
rests alone, left to stand
square, normal, cornered, shaken
opened, broken once that fragility is taken

a box almost waiting to be unignored
to share an understanding
to take sides, talk, oh what a feeling!
sellotape the cracks, his facade is peeling

the picture inside, a girl you can’t control
awaiting her own delivery, of compassion and a soul
rewound, erased, almost forgotten
he pokes a hole and the last of her seeps from the bottom

this man sees his box and walks slowly across the room
curious to what’s inside, he shivers
tentative, peeling, flaking
fucking hurting, try to shake the feeling

arms outstretched and head held low
he opens his box, and truly looks inside himself
through the hole he poked his future flows
the girl is gone