Relics

Why is it that material objects always last longer than the relationships they remind us of? A grey eyeshadow I wore when I visited his mother, a wallet that refuses to disintegrate, mini coffee filters that I can't seem to finish. But you keep these things around because they are still functional, despite the memories attached to them. Or perhaps, because of? I don't know. Maybe it's time to clean house and relinquish these perfectly good things because despite their usefulness, they are but relics of the past. And why should I let them haunt me daily in the present? I suppose I had never really thought about it. Maybe I was waiting to make coffee with him again. But that's just a dream I have to let go of.