I know another man’s junk is another man’s treasure,
for what is worthless to one may be priceless to me
Like the bracelets I gave you just to be rid of them,
not knowing you’d keep one—and return the other to me

Do you still wear yours? I wonder sometimes
Last time I saw you, it clung to your wrist
But I haven’t seen you in so long,
and time is a thief I cannot resist

Like bladeless sharpeners, empty and still,
they serve no purpose, yet I hold them tight
Once, they were escape, a solace in steel,
now, just relics of vanished nights

Like notes you passed, folded with care,
tucked away in a box I cannot discard
Like the jacket I wore whenever I saw you,
kept so I don’t forget—avoided so I don’t remember too hard

I hate remembering, yet forgetting is worse,
a cruelty I fear more than pain
For how could I let go of the things that remain,
when they made all my days what they were?