I wish you had burned them.
At least you'd have
admitted
they had some power, some
significance.
Some truth.

You couldn't give my shreds of self a decent funeral.

Instead,
you tossed them
carelessly?
thoughtlessly?
among broken eggshells
as useless as my desire.

Didn't you even wonder if someone else would find them?

Even now,
in certain moods
I wonder.
This faded yet still crazed longing,
the question—
were you affected at all?

...so you never wished you could read them again?

I wish I could.
I would mourn them,
wear the white,
burn the innocent gift.
Maybe then
I could let them go.

Very nice Dayv

Wow Dayv! Very moving!

Very touching, Dayv.