Memento

i reach into the place where
i hold my memories of days passed;
the symbols of my life from years gone.
i pull out boxes hidden away
where i myself would not find
until the day i should stumble upon them.
fondly i open and gaze at all
the contents, and the many memories
flit swiftly across my mind. i smile
at the chance to remind myself
of what my life was, and is,
and begin to wonder what is yet to be.
the countless pictures cross my fingers,
and the many papers scribbled with
your elegant writing in the margin space.
i recall when we first met,
the many troubles that filled our days,
the endless hours we would spend together.

my life was lived for you,
but you were only for yourself
and in the end, my own heart was spent–
empty and bare, cold and dead,
the life and hope bled out
into you. yes, perhaps it was
my own fault, and now i know
to place my faith in more than flesh,
my hopes into One who can sustain them.
i return the things to their proper places–
the pain of the past is hard to bear
but perhaps years from now, i'll rediscover
this sanctuary of my past
and look through it with only pleasure,
the pain being long behind us both.
as for now, they are but reminders
of all that you once were to me
but are no more, and never again shall be.

*and before anyone asks, this is about no one in particular*