An Analog Apology

I know the drawers you'll never open. I know the books that you won't read, the complications, and the pressing need for clarity and closure. I read the Anthology in the closet, hidden in stacks of paperbacks and coats, and in the quiet of the twilight I read all your secret notes (for clarity and closure.) I have made mistakes; most of them have proper names. But Lord, my heart is after you. Sometimes my vision gets skewed, but you make all things beautiful. I just get things confused lately. I have loved once, can I love twice? I told you so last night.