I was always taught To put receipts away. As every item is bought, In my desk that paper stays. From the headset on my desk Including the board I type this on. Should something turn out grotesque By the next day it would be gone. But now, I think, should the time come, That is not something that must be done. With that disc shattered in its case, I could not bear to part Because I know how it felt to be in that place The day you broke my heart. Something about me must have been Defective, broken, kept past its due Certainly, a part expired within The day I lost you. So I'll keep my lost, forgotten friends Let them crowd my room. Lest they know of bitter ends, And the pain of half-truths.