"I miss you so much."
"Run away with me."
"You're my girl 3/23/14."
"Ali was here."
"Big kiss!"
Hidden notes.
The pleasure of finding new pieces of you.
Wanting, yet not wanting to search
Because meeting the last one
Seems like it might mean
There is nothing left to discover.
You are here but you are gone.
You were my safety, but now
You are my cell phone.
You are my computer.
You are a lived-in T and sweater
Which I suffocate myself with
In order to feign sleep without your touch.
You are a used facecloth
And an unwashed pillowcase.
You are the crumbs in my carpet.
You are the strands of hair that cling to my scarf and brush
That did not come from the scalp I wear.
You are the blooming lilies left behind.
You are a faint aroma in the air
And
You are the steady thump of a heartbeat against an ear
Deeply rooted in my memory.
All these I know.
But the one blue sticky note that still evades me…
It is mystery.
It is you, *unlearned.
It is my motivation.
It is my vice.
It is the sweet symphony
That keeps me afloat in the dark water.
Ocean waves.
Blue squares.
Where?

What kind of man
What kind of man am I?
Sits on his hands and watches
The world go by
That stares at the sky
Never bothers asking why
Who listens to fools
And hurts those he schools
And makes his own rules
Who leaves when he wants
And loves when he can
That works when he should
And plays as he would
He stays if he was
And prays just because
He's sad don't you know
And mad you should go
And proud as a man
Cause men will be men
What kind of man
What kind of man am I?