There’s a little urn on my desk
I imagine you’re inside
Crowding it with your dust
Perhaps your spirit
Or even just your memories
So I can read them like a book
You can scratch against the sides
Ripping off fingernails
You’ll never escape
You’re my source for emotion
I can remember pain when I look into you
You’re my ocean of tears
Waiting to cleanse me of my numbness.
Felix
Reindeer