i don't throw

things away.

the meaningful,

the meaningless,

everything is somewhere.

in my house.

in my garage.

tucked away in

places i don't remember,

to be found at

times i don't

expect to find them.

i found a memory

a few weeks ago.

it was nothing, really.

just something i held

on to just

in case...

i can't believe i

kept it

in the first place,

but at the time

it seemed so necessary.

i thought,

or maybe it's better

to say i had a

feeling, that

it may be the last

time we

would see one another.

it wasn't.

we had a couple

of years before that

final moment.


when i found it

i knew what it

was and i knew what

it meant at the

time i saved it.

i held it in

my hand, surprised

at the kind of

emotions a little

piece of plastic could elicit,

especially two and

a half years

after shit like this

lost all meaning.

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