Please excuse the mess
I don't clean up often
I let my thoughts lay around like stockings
Create piles of memories in corners and pockets
Until everything I look for is  lost and
I'll still toss in some more reasons through the seasons of dropping
Little bits and drips of emotions and mocking
Every and any lover who tries to stop me
From building up a wall of unexamined issues and problems
That follows me from place to place as angry as an angry mob could
So as you can tell
I don't have time to mop a tile or pack a shelf
And still, make a bed and be a friend as well