I Am A Keeper

I am a good keeper. And it sucks sometimes when you are not able to keep those you value the most.

See, I'm the kind who will keep a pebble for years just because I find it cute. If you give me flowers, I will make them the centerpiece of our dinner table for many nights. And when they dry, I will make bookmarks out of them. You go to a movie with me, trust that receipts will be kept and scrapbooks will be crafted.

I never liked flashy colors. But the purple face towel you gave me five years ago? It still stands out every time I open my drawer. It became my favorite. That page from the back of your college notebook where you doodled our names? It's still posted on my wall like a prized possession. Your 3 A.M messages you sent with one eye closed telling me to sleep already? They already built a home in my inbox. I visit them every chance I get despite the aged timestamps. Despite the cobwebs that resided in the silence. Despite the sorrys growing long strands of beard.  I visit them despite the regret. Despite the pain these voiceless messages bring to me.

Open me up and you will find flashbacks of our memories organized in neat aisles. I can take you on a very organized day tour to when your smiles became mine. To when street food at the park became romantic. To when we would finish each other's sentences. To when you and I became us. We. To when hugs started becoming a little less tighter. To when tears started falling. To when I looked you in the eye and knew that you were about to leave me. To when I begged that you let me keep you for a bit longer.

I value memories. And maybe I've been doing it too much. Every moment we spent together will be tattooed in my mind in shades impossible to not notice. You will live in my mind rent-free for I don't know how long. I have not yet grown the intent of throwing away what you have given me. 

I am a good keeper. I know I am. And it sucks. 

I just was not able to keep you.