Everything that reminds me
is piled and held onto and
never let go of because without
opening and closing your notes
periodically all day, I
have nothing to get me through it.
I used to be so barely-hanging-on,
and now my hold is tightened
only because it's become a clutch
on your forgiving security.
My weak knees will follow you
and my feeble eyes will wait
forever if you never come to say
you've been looking for me.
And I write our initials in little hearts
and call you "baby" but not to your face,
and ignore the fact that I could
never tell you how much I