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 cant remember who
Ive so many things left over
I dont know where they should go
Its not a mess,
Its personal
Like the home altars of Mexico
Its 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, Ill never play
Travel cards from a sunny day
Why cant I throw these things away?
Ive so many things left over
I dont know where they should go
Its not a mess,
Its personal
Like the home altars of Mexico