The Collector
This is where you brought me
and this is now my home.
Everything you've ever given me
I've put it on the top shelf to admire:
bones of ghosts and bruises,
these magenta mementos
that I press daily.
"Why are you always so sad?"
is the constant question,
never asked but always seen in
the fleeting climate of your eyes.
Because I've conditioned myself
to be like you,
carelessly tracking in stains
on people's hearts
that just seem
to collect over time.
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