I lost my mobile.
It had been mine for several years,
not a fad but a part of me,
full of stories in its short memory
compared to a laptop's.
Four lovers texted me,
only kept the texts of the last one.
Phone numbers of countless friends
who took a time to be gathered
acquaintances
relatives
brother
mother
daughter.
Ringtones, images, pics.
A companion through difficult years --
of the worst abandonement,
of new found lovers,
of crazy and wild moments,
of settling down.
Where are you?
My little black notebook?
My little black diary?
My memory.
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