Collectors and Packrats

I used to collect things, did you know that?

I used to collect your smiles. I would tuck them away and keep them for days when the sun didn't shine and the rain beat down on the world.

I used to collect your kisses. Each one was so gentle and tender, I would keep them in my pockets and relive the moments, cherishing the fact that I had them.

I used to collect your hugs. I would neatly hang them in my closet, where they would stay until one of those dreadful nights when I woke up scared of the dark and craving you. I would just pluck one out of the closet and wrap it around myself, relishing its warmth and comfort.

I used to collect your wishes. They were so shiny and beautiful, almost as gorgeous as you. Every night I would add my own to them - only my wishes weren't for grandeur or fame, but for all of yours to come true.

I used to collect your sighs. I would catch them in a bottle as they drifted from your mouth whilst we sat on the couch, just admiring each other's presence.

I used to collect your touches. Whether it was just a little brush of the arm or a timid caress, I would keep it and store it away in a drawer, so that I could always have you close at hand even when you were miles away.

Yes, I used to be quite the collector, but no more. Not since you left me alone, in a world that I don't quite know how to navigate.

Now the smiles have all cracked, and the kisses are meaningless. The hugs are wrinkled and have been eaten away by the moths. Your wishes have grown dim and are covered with dust. The sighs have gone stale, and the touches are faded.

I used to collect things, but now I just keep them cluttered together in the bottom of my closet. Sometimes I still take them out and turn them over in my hands, remembering days that are no more, but not often.

I used to collect things, you know. But not anymore. Now I'm just a packrat.