It was the small details - minuscule but important -
about you that were boxed away in the attic of my mind
The feeling of your eyes locked on mind
locked away in some dusty trunk
The way your laugh lit up the room
now in the dark, musky space
The topics that immediately made you go silent and shut out
are shut away along with antiques and momentos
no longer needed to be seen
but far too valuable to be thrown away
Sometimes I revisit the space
pull down the ladder
and watch out for glass and splintering wood
not wanting to get hurt
The temperature is always too extreme - freezing or unbearably boiling
so I do not stay up there for long
but I do not need long
for all of the memories to come flooding back