PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Six months ago, I built a box. It had no meaning and I no intentions, but it was beautiful. Trimmed a darkest brown and the surface pure white, with an erotic, crimson texture within. It filled me with excitement and I filled it with feathers. A collection of fascinating ivory. Beautiful to the tip. Each pure. Each unique. Each perfect.

Over time, the box began to float. Anxiously. The ivory had gained life. Every feather I added, raised it higher. Eventually, it came to a standstill, and I stopped collecting ivory. Instead I found the raven. Curiosity got the best of me. I added its feathers to my box. I saw no change. With no new feathers the box would have surely dropped.

Months went by. The box was not the same inviting creation I had known. As I looked inside, I found it almost covered with raven. I knew black feathers didn't fit, but I didn't stop. Egoistically, I concentrated on keeping my box afloat. Thoughtlessly, I placed all I could find inside.

Weeks passed. The box was lifeless. The ivory was covered in raven. Displeased, I shoved it, hoping that it would spit out the poison. Instead, it kept hovering. I didn't care.

Three days I hadn't opened it. It was no longer high. As I examined it, I found no more ivory. Only the raven. There was a hole on the bottom. The box had released not the raven, but the ivory. Desperately, I tried to open it, but to no luck. It was gone and I was empty. My box had broken.

Six months ago, I built a box. It was marvelous and I a dove, decorated with beautiful ivory feathers.