Plastic Molded

How dumb, I think

That this plastic form and lid

Should be what I have here

Here in front of me

A dilemma that should not be

Unanswered call

Unanswered text

And an empty piece of plastic

And its lid

I’ll donate it, I think

I’ll drop it by

No, I can’t do that

No more messages

2 is plenty

Too much probably

An avalanche

I’ll give it to someone else

I’ll keep it

I definitely should not be

Should not be

Should not be

Still thinking about these pieces

Of formed plastic

Molded to fit together

Perfectly

What a dumb poem, I think

About storage containers and fate

When people are not static

They are

Growing and changing

I have already changed

Become a little more myself

A little more healed

A bit more healthy

Of him there is no word

Not a glance back then

To the donation pile

Without regret

Where someone who needs

That can pick it up for cheap

I have too much anyway

Too much on my plate

Too much on my mind

Too much to do

And not enough time

I am not static or made of plastic

I am growing and changing

Healing and hoping

I can let go too

And be a little nicer to myself

Nice poem, I think

About plastic containers

And fate and love

And the little things that get

Left behind

Unnoticed

Until it’s time to tidy

man tied up using tape with head in carton box
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

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