My Only Lost Love (working title)

There's a cluttered room

in the back of the house

that no one ever enters.

We keep it closed-off,

barricaded with memories too beautiful,

and painful, to let roam free.

It repels us all on its own now.

Slips shards of glass under our fingernails when we press our hands

against the door,

burns our palms when we grasp 

the doorknob. 

The walls are swollen with the weight

of the heartbreak it holds. 

Toys never used,

12 month clothing that would always be too big. 

I entombed the best part of myself there,

now I'm unsure of how to reclaim it.

Or if I even can.