Prisoner of Love

My friend keeps her boyfriend in a pink box. I've seen it. Its a small box, it fits right in the palm of her hand. I don't know how she got him to fit in such a small space, but she is just that kind of girl. I think he must have done something very wrong to end up in the small pink package, but he sounds happy. I got to see his face once. She showed me, he was peering out of the small window in the box, smiling back at me. Then he turned off the light and I couldn't see him anymore. My friend seems happiest when she is with her pink box. She holds it, pressed to her ear. She has a big smile and giggles sometimes, with a little snort at the end, if its really funny. The boyfriend must also have a radio in there, because sometimes he plays music, and sometimes he must have company, because he isn't the only voice I've heard from the box. But most of the time, its just him and her. And sometimes he wants to talk to her so bad, he shakes that box so hard it makes the whole table vibrate. But sometimes I see my friend and she has tears in her eyes. I think its because she wants her boyfriend to get out of the box, but neither of them remember how he got in, in the first place. But I know they'll remember one day, and they'll be able to hold hands again or kiss, and she'll never need that pink box ever again. Lets hope so.