Pockets

I keep losing great people like the things in my pockets,

And I don’t know how to miss them till I feel the hollow space.

I started to forget my checklist to run through

Of the things I need and the people I love

To keep them refrigerator-seal fresh in my mind.

I blame myself for things start feeling rotten.

There’s so much going on before I forget.

I complicate those pockets until a pinky-sized hole makes me drop my pen.

I complicate my day, ‘cause there’s no ink for my to-do list.

I complicate my hopes, cause the to-do lists aren’t complete.

I complicate my friends, cause taking new faces by surprise has always been easier.

I complicate my love, cause “lover” is just a colour swath from friend

I mull these over in my head, packed tighter than a mosh pit in a sardine can

And before I know it, I just start forgetting.

 

Forgetting to grab my keys.

Forgetting to put my coat away.

Forgetting to tell my friends I love them.

Forgetting to tell myself I love me.

 

Before I know it, the bustle takes me onto the next thing.

I forgot you, who first told me to save my poems and swims better than anyone I ever knew

The haven where I could find my peace with a pen and just write.

To send you out to shop, to fix your broken pieces like I wish I could with mine

To remember who and what was great in the first place

A defeated sigh escapes, I lean my temples against the desk in despair.

“I forgot.”

 

I keep losing everything in my overstuffed pockets,

But I want it to change.

If I clear up the clutter, I’m afraid my grief will break me.

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