do not for one second think I am not
collecting, categorising and filing away
each word you say to me.
each second of eye contact sits
in a file
in my heart
for me to feast upon
during extended periods of absence.
do not for one small moment
believe your jokes and slips of the tongue
(see: there; another one)
are not painstakingly checked over
and inspected for tone
do not fool yourself that I do not know
what you're doing, or
what I'm doing
that it goes nowhere
that our truths are different.
do not for one brief instant
allow yourself to entertain the notion
that I am yours. Not any more than
you are mine, but
somehow you are - your words and looks
and breaths are my private collection
forgotten in 12 months, or never.