Coffins

Long ago, you built a coffin in the corner of your mind to place me in. I didn't ever really have a choice in the matter, but I couldn't help but fight back. No matter how many times you kept picking me up, carrying me back to that coffin in the corner of your mind, and nailing it shut, I kept finding my way out, pushing the nails out - refusing to let you bury me. I've finally realized (or rather, accepted) I can fight my burial no longer. It's been inevitable from the day you gathered the supplies to build that coffin in the corner of your mind. So I give up. I'll lie there silently and let you hammer every single nail into that coffin and lower it deep into your memory - my final resting place in your mind. And now I shall build you a coffin, the one I gathered the materials for long ago but couldn't even bear to assemble, let alone place you in. It is time, and I must lay you to rest deep in my memory. You won't put up a fight, nor will you beg me to let you out. You'll go quietly, which will pain me further. While burying you is still a struggle for me, I have to do it. But I have no doubt some beautiful flowers will grow atop your grave in that corner of my mind, even if I neglect the entire area of water and sunlight.

I've never been one for building coffins. I hope this one is the last.