I keep my lovers there
I hide them under my father's obituary
and one of the few medals
I ever won
You never gave me a letter
and I had to steal a photo
so I have little to keep
and fewer places to remember them
stuck between the pages of some volume
I hid my hunger
the petals of a different love
and I forgot about them
someday in the mountians of books
that fill my bookcases
I will stumble across it again
and remember something
feel something
trace those pressed edges
and peel up the corners
my underneath
never really forgets
I move on
but I am not the kind
to ever really let go
it's always under there
somewhere
maybe stuck to the underside of the desk
weighed down by old trinkets
but I never really
let my love for you go
I am as dusty
as a dust jacket
crinkled like ancient paper
I pressed myself in those pages long ago
between those covers
petrified like old cookies
warm as chocolate tea
that's where I keep my secret hunger
folded and bent
under a thousand feet
of broken heart pieces
with the curse
of a good memory
and the prying apart
of tenderest lips
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