Oh, the things inside which I cannot contain you:

For you I have no box; for the others, their boxes have been destroyed. While I remember everything you've ever given me, it seems wrong to just shelve you away out of sight/ out of mind. There is the wrapper to a chocolate bar you gave me back in the summer months. It had freeze-dried raspberries in it and was wrapped in a love poem. This was the first of your many wonderful gifts. The most powerful things you gave me weren't things at all. They were poems dripping from your lips smoothing over every rough aspect of my body. Some were books from childhood given just because. Some were lunches and dinners and movie tickets and fondue. Some were hugs, or private trips leading to black and pink bags, or maybe even yourself. Love cannot be boxed away and shipped Fed-Ex to its recipient, but I've tried. Oh, I've tried, and it all just slipped away.

There is no bitterness left in me. No contempt or malice or ill-will. I understand my part in all of this and think I will be all the better from my mistakes.

So, I tip my glass to you and wish you all the health in the world. When life gives you more Pros than Cons, we can be salvaged. Until then, you got a friend in me.

This is best.

~Little Spoon.