An ebony chest is carefully hidden
With past sentiments is wholly ridden.
A wooden coffin for emotions shielded
Naphthalene scented memories omitted.

In its dark interior included for years
Guarded by the spiderwebs of fears.
Vials of bitter potions made of tears
And sour poisons from deceitful betrayals.

Beside them dead, dried and withering flowers
Remnants of old failed romances.
In wine stained cloths some are wrapped.
Once sweet love remedies for the heart.

Bygone merry feelings laying still
Pinned on a dusty styrofoam piece
Like a collection of butterflies dead
In their state now inciting dread.

Next past dreams as ornaments lay
Broken like toys one can no longer play.
Soiled and cruddy memoirs of joy
Now cluttered and recklessly kept at bay.

At the bottom rest the most treasured items
Glittering gems of peoples’ reminiscences  
Some gone while others abandoned
Souvenirs of stardust for me to look after.

Yet moths at times outwardly fly
Snowflake like and pristine white.
To melancholy black tulips happily wander
And what-if thoughts aimlessly ponder.