I have a box of your clothes,
Stuffed animals you gave me,
And pictures of us.
Its not enough.
I have our old messages,
Your poems,
Old English Assingments.
But I'd rather have you.
I have the necklace,
The movie tickets,
Your sunglasses.
But it doesn't mean anything now.
Its not you.
You're a ghost,
A wandering spirit,
And none of these things
Compare to your actual being.
