In better times
I bought two hearts
Both were lapis blue
One I set in my glass case
The other, gave to you

I thought it sweet
We each had hearts
And they were both the same
Though yours went in a little drawer
With papers and loose change

The drawer was in a wooden stand
In your entryway
And where you placed your front door key
The end of every day

When you died
I took the heart
To have it back with me
It sits upon my nightstand
I see it every day

And every day I see it
I’m at your funeral 
Wishing I had the heart with me
To bury it with you

Knowing it was the perfect thing 
I now had failed to do
To let you take something of me
Left with so much of you.