I picked up all your things and I put them in a box.
I was going to send them back to you, all those things you gave me
When you promised I was the only thing you needed and then I realised
I can't put every kiss in the box or return every "I love you."
I can't return every time I held you or unwrite every love letter I wrote you.
I can't undo every time I touched you
Or unhear the way you said my name. I can't send back every
"your beautiful."
Because things will never be the same.
What am I going to do with all these things if I can never pack them away?
