The Broken Dreams

There is magic in her eyes

They dance like glittering fires

And burn with happiness

Or in sadness, they still shine,

Like lamplight in the rain.

I add her things to my collection.

The broken things lay on my bedroom floor

And I watch over them jealously.

They are memories

Letters and gifts from old girlfriends,

My grandfather’s driver’s license,

My cat’s collar.

All the items from loved ones now gone,

Left me, dead, gone.

I look over my horde, but they are no help,

they weigh on me

like stones in my heart.