I'm flipping through the box that made me who I am.
There's pictures of you,
trinkets from "us",
and memories I can't comprehend.
There's a few rotting pieces of the part of me (the heart of me) you broke.
The shirt in here still smells like then.
It brings back memories of you.
The gatorade's still there,
and I can't help but think of what a stupid shit I was for saving the last few drops.
The box is filled with faded dreams and a few are still barely breathing.
Part of me just can't (won't?) let go.
And if you listen really closely, you can still hear a happy giggle.
Was it me?
No. It was you.
You, before you forgot what you had.
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