The box I lost to love

I had a beautiful black box.
Inside it I kept my most beautiful, prized and top secret possessions.
I shined and decorated my box with jewels and anything that glittered. Any penny I'd earn, I'd use towards my box.

In my box, I kept my dreams, hopes ambitions, love and trust.
From far, one could tell that the box I had was valuable. People would see it in my hand and know that I am an amazing woman, just by the box I carried.
Since childhood, I've coloured, decorated and kept it safe.

But one day, he came.
He showed me heavens mirage. He promised me joy and offered me happiness forever. I was so mesmorized by the images that played out in my head, so lost in ideas of tomorrow, that I gave him my box and didn't even think twice about it. I gave him all I was simply because his intentions seemed solid. His armour looked genuine and his touch made sense to my skin.

So wrong, what I thought was a knight in shinning armour was actually a boy dressed in his mothers tinned foil. Alone because it didn't work out, I sit drowning in solitude and tears because of him. I look back and wonder why. I sit with what's left of my box and see that he took most of my dreams with him. Dismantled and only a box by name I'm hurt. My box was me.

The little packet of esteem and self love...gone.
My sprinkles of confidence are finished and he didn't even bother to give back my lid of security.

All that's left is a vessel with shabby patches of what used to resemble joy. But I tried to blame him for all he took and what he has that I worked so hard for. I realise that while playing the name and blame game...that he not once forced or asked for my box. And that it was me and me alone who willingly gave him my entire box.

May you're injuries from loves wounds heal again through Christ the healer.