The day I threw your stuffs away

A sweater, two hats, and three shirts. I clutched onto the last remnants of you in this room. I'm moving out tomorrow, but this room has already been emptied, the day you moved out. You packed your bags but you were right, most of the things are mine. Ours, I should say. They were there to build a life for us, but that was not the life we were meant to have. We played house, you got tired. So I played alone, pretending you- waiting impatiently for me on our queen-size spaceship, imagining you- dancing gracelessly with me in our messy kitchen. To throw away your things is to desecrate our home, to bring them with me is to have faith in something unreal. So I left behind the fragments, as they are, as they have been, to immortalize those moments we called love.