𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑑, but I've been collecting pieces of you from the floor, bits of your words, the skin you shed in the dark, the things you never bothered to finish. I keep them in jars on my shelf, and sometimes I look at them and wonder if you'll ever come back for them.