Feelings.

A jar sits on the table:
Beckoning me to come forth.
I don’t know what’s in it.
How should I know?
The last time I opened it 
Was far too long ago.

I remember the pain though,
And I remember the tears.
I remember the suppression 
I’ve gone through to get here.

Still, I now hold that jar in my palm.
Twisting the cap, holding tightly 
Who knows what can go wrong?
But the top pops off,
And lots of colours emerge.
I didn’t expect so much to tumble out
I’ll shut my heart again, take a different route.

I’ll leave the jar there, this time it’ll lay,
And maybe I’ll leave my feelings
For another day.