Home Altars Of Mexico

Letters of consent under the bed in a heart shaped box

Cinema tickets mixed in with dirty socks

Half written postcards to, I can't remember who

I've so many things left over

I don't know where they should go

It's not a mess,

It's personal

Like the home altars of Mexico

It's hard just opening my bedroom door

All my memories, spread out across the floor

A napkin from that meal we shared the other night

Lollypop sticks and Lego bricks

A broken 7 inch, I'll never play

Travel cards from a sunny day

Why can't I throw these things away?

I've so many things left over

I don't know where they should go

It's not a mess,

It's personal

Like the home altars of Mexico