I was never good with letting go,
always caught hoarding my belongings
and stacking up my secrets
in a safe little box.

I was never good with letting go,
always storing my candy in a jar under my bed,
making sure I had plenty left to spare.

I was never good with letting go,
playing the same old children's games
much longer than the other children my age.

I was never good with letting go,
hallucinating about the people I lose
for a year or so after they're gone.

I was never good with letting go,*
I remember telling you in our confessional,
the diary we wrote in two years ago.

*I was never good with letting go,
and you were the only person I ever told.