Magpie

I litter.

There’s a days long trail of 

post-it notes across the walls and

bobby pins across the floor and

clothes strewn just about everywhere else. 

I do it on purpose. 

You could call it nesting 

but really

I’m afraid of transience

I am afraid 

of not leaving a mark.

Of not being able to say that something is mine.

And so

even though I know 

it annoys you

to no end

I’m going to keep doing it. 

Because I hope I can annoy you

to the point

that I leave my mark on you. 

That I can claim you’re mine.