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.