The Horror Box

My love
is like a horror box that has been locked
in 37 different ways.

Discarded on the street corner,

It contains:

A mask that has poison applied all over,
A pair of tender-looking handcuffs,
Blood-stained sexy lingerie,
A calendar where the year never ends,
Some dark poems written in reverse,
A rotten and atrophic heart,
and
Lots of mud that used to be a pink rose bouquet--so badly trampled.

The city cop said:
"After a security check, this box has been proved
to have nothing to do with terrorism.
Just go ahead and destroy it. "

In the waste-burning furnace,
Everything was turned into a pile of ashes.
But even in the 995 degree Fahrenheit heat.
A sigh lingers.