memoirs of a poet

I am written on a napkin,
the tape holding up the artwork
the acknowledgements succeeding the novel
the surplus of cups in your bedroom
the hollowed out figure in your mattress 
the time waiting for the water warm
the naked body before stepping in
the part between slumber and falling into it
the finger between each word
the space between your thoughts
the intention behind your speech
I am all that you do not think of.