You, Two Cans, a String, and Me

Please don't forget to remember me.

I hope that a smile

creeps across your prickly face

when you do.

If you find that you're missing me,

pick up the tin can I left behind.

Bring it to your ear.

Listen to my heartbeat.

When you're looking for company,

travel by way of string.

Close the distance

between us two.

Let my hips be the space

where your hands come to rest,

and my lips be the cushions

that yours crash against

as you recover from string-lag

and lost innocence.

...and if you should remember me,

and again our string grows taut,

I, too, have known tin's sharpness.

It's something I never forgot.