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
