Beyond Heartbreak

_{(Credit: Author)}

Beside my back door hangs an umbrella,
An average, collapsible, black umbrella which I never use,
An impromptu gift at the end of a first date,
On my way to take her to the airport,
A token from a girl I loved from 8,000 miles away.
It never became anything, though it felt like everything.

Above my closet hangs the first birthday present a girlfriend ever gave me,
A scant three months after we first met,
Blue framed collage of my favorite album covers.
It’s been mine for more than twice the time she was.
There’s a beautiful remembrance of days gone by,
And dear friends who are now ghosts and echoes.

Amongst my collection of little trinkets is a jar,
A collection of compliments written delicately on paper,
A birthday present from the most recent love of my life.
We only lasted two months.
Saw each other more often after we broke up than we did together.
And in the smell of the incense she used to burn, I can still hear her voice.

On my wall hangs a poster framed in red metal and tiny lights,
With the silver inscription of my last co-stars
From a stage I once played upon.
A family that’d love each other forever,
With whom I haven’t spoken in a decade,
Though my dreams of a theater always include them.

My nightstand hosts a small plastic clock,
With figures of dancers which spin on the bottom,
And German writing on its face, revealing its origin.
A trivial trinket pilfered from the house my grandparents built,
Once they had no use for a place to rest their heads any longer,
An inconsequential little reminder of a different time.

Amidst all these trinkets, my heart carries their stories,
Faces and names, voices and laughter,
The heavy sorrow that hangs off every item
Doesn’t quite capture the deeper truth,
The hint of gratitude and love which still permeates. 
Something strangely beautiful beyond heartbreak.