prosopopoeia

Where is the jar?

The one filled with the kisses you meant to give me, 
But were too embarrassed to share.

Those moments, in front of friends or, as you left the house.
Breath-holding, as my hopeful cheek would hang languid in the air for a second, or maybe an hour?
Show me that jar.
Too heavy to lift now.

Did you count the times?

Those tiny glistening moments of time, collected when you almost called me
But were just too busy. 
Shining moments in time, sticking together  in clumps 
Like forgotten sweets in a tin.
Unable to split apart to ever count or share again.

Sing to me that song again.

Where financial lyric and tune has been lost over time 
And I am called upon to remind you of its familiar sound again, once more.
So that you may continue to lull me so beautifully again.

Can you see me dance?