All the changes I've made
are not making a change.
Taking things out of one box
putting them in another
throwing away things
that used to mean something.
Moving furniture.
Looking at old pictures,
reminiscing.
Longing for something,
but what I don't know.
It's weird to sleep without you tonight.  
I'll open the window because you like it that way.
But when I stretch out my cold feet,
to find you, you're not there.
But the mess on my floor is looming at me,
and it tells you to go away until all is
straightened, organized, clean
my obsessive tendencies in every aspect of my life.
I should be sleeping now,
but the untidiness is keeping me awake.
And, you're not here to tell me to let it go.
Sometimes I need you like that.
Obsessive, organized chaos.
I clean like I need you,
my obsessions.
And I'm sorry for that.