Unkept

I am at the bottom of your glass of water. The residue of fruit peelings contains my gratitude. Don't straighten up too much. A messy bed is able to hide my impressions. When things are slightly undone, I am able to linger. Do not drive me out with hopeless folding and tucking. Tidy spaces eliminate the passage of spirit. Make it feel like home again. No picture frames can do justice to the memory of our hours long dance. When love is packed up to resemble a museum, the feeling will depart. I am not a showman. I will not push against the organization of a busy hand. Remember me in a thrown towel. Do not recycle every can. Two may remain for you to step over or to play with in thought. Pass clean water over your body and dishes, but leave the books. A little dust is counted for charm. To wipe them down is to reset the clock of our shared time. If I can set off a cough attack in the middle of your prayer, you might be inspired to think of me in the same golden strain of heaven. I would not have you live like a pig. Remove the trash, and be a faithful launderer. Just spare my hat. Make whatever face you are prompted by disgust, but it contains my sent. If you lose it, how can the link remain. A soul is survived by by the burning embers of smell and touch. I'm afraid the machine wash will make for a different feeling. Don't sanitize everything for resale. Give way most of my footwear. Only keep a pair that I may step into and pace while you sleep. I will guard you from things that are not known to the quick. Do not become a prisoner to rubbish. Just give me a few points of contact.