This is what you left me:
A letter to yourself.
Letters to some other people.
Some scribbles and notes,
that have no value to me other than
they were yours. You left me
with some memories, but no pictures.
You left me with a lot of what ifs
and whys, and for a while I thought
some where answers would appear.
They never did.
You left me with a box of stuff.
Sometimes I feel like I am just
holding on to trash you never had
a chance to throw out.
This is what you left,
me.
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