It’s not like I’m attached to things
their value just defined by purpose
but then again it makes me think
why some of them still make me nervous
just sitting there, existing, menacingly
threatening, twisting passing-by thoughts
summoning memories and I ought to
almost call it necromancing if they weren’t
kinda beautiful, kinda sad and kinda
still there when I should have thrown
them away by now, shouldn’t I.
But I can’t, it’s just like that cause
they have a number above the head,
a certain value measured in love
paid for with a heart and a half
and just for right now I’m struggling
so seeing them out is just too expensive
until some day I can maybe afford
to forget you.
