Relics of the past,
things from ancient times,
memories hidden in a closet,
behind a door that holds back history.
Thinking of the good times,
remembering the bad,
ancient things bothering me,
shouldn’t,
but they always do.
Remind me of lost love,
remind me of you.
The necklace you wore,
piled in the corner,
never to be worn again.
With a hundred more memories,
stored away,
used only as relics,
of memories of the past.
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