Trinket

It doesn't mean anything to anyone,
Trinket on my table, easily outdone,
It is disposable,
Not notable,
Unquotable,
Yet, to me,
Emotional,
You gave this to me,
No great thought to see,
A passing gesture,
Not a measure,
But I look at it and think of you,
Of all the things to me you do...
We may be apart,
But you've certainly left your mark,
It's where you put it, I check,
Now faint on the side of my neck,
I remember how you left it after a grin,
And I hoped your touch would linger on my skin,
I'm not supposed to miss you,
Just because we're still brand new,
But that little trinket sitting there,
...making it really hard not to care.