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The Collector

I have his shirt folded in my drawer.

I wear it to bed regularly because the memories come so vividly still and it makes me remember and it makes me happy.

I have his ring on my finger.

It’s silver and it spells ’COURAGE’ on it and I like to just have it on. I look at it and I close my eyes and I have him in my head. I don’t love him anymore, but it gives me strength.

I have the necklace he gave me dangling from my lamp.

The heart-clasp on it has broken to it lays open when I wear it. I liked clicking it open and closed when I got nervous to remind me that he had loved me. Now it’s something to look at when I need the reminder.

I have his scarf tucked away.

It was the one I pulled to keep him close, and the one he wrapped around my neck before he left.  It gives a feeling of ‘want’ when I hold it in my hands.

I collect for more than just the feeling it gives me; I collect for the memories, the strength, the love, the hope, the fun.

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