Day 259

I'm falling weary,
my heart's content no longer there.
I'm ill with illusions of the past,
sickened without your presence.
I dote on fond thoughts of us,
and how we were so perfect.
Your heart an even more battered version of mine,
but still beautiful in all its worth.
I'd pay a  fortune to own what we had,
and have it framed above my mirror.
I don't ever want to forget you,
and so I sit in the corner and collect dust
along with our shattered memories.