Using my fairest hand
I wrote your name on a scrap of paper,
And slipped it into my wallet
So it would be next to my heart
All day.
So that I could carry you with me
To venerate
Like the bones of a blessed saint
In a casket.
I opened up my box of relics
A testament to loves
Unloved
To hearts broken
To lives unravelled.
An acorn that did not grow into an oak.
A fossil from some petrified forest.
Mocking my broken heart
With it's unthinkable age.
The note, scribbled,
The perfumed scarf.
The poem.
The coaster.
Things.
To remind me
As if I could ever
Forget.
This is not written by me but is a mirror held up by a beautiful soul