What We Used to Share

Maybe I should give you
my leftover guitar picks.
It's not like
I'm using them anyway.
I haven't used them in years,
but I tried to pick them back up
for you.
I saw one the other day,
just hidden on my desk,
right next to my empty photo album
and some old business cards.
I debated picking it up,
holding it in its proper place.
I debated thinking about you,
writing a tiny note
and sneaking it in your class.
Overall,
I guess I decided against touching it at all,
sweeping it under my memory box,
so that I could possibly forget you.