A phone book

Kit

Words in the wind, cautiously whispered,

He never reacted to those that he heard

- carving his moments into wood to keep,

Fading memories were what made him lose sleep.

Years flying by, regrets steadily grow,

So he attempts to keep on the down low

- more pretty carvings, more memories kept,

Just so they'd overcrowd the days when he wept.

He should've, he would've, he never did,

Those are the theories kept under the lid.

A slip of the tongue, and the entire fortress falls...

And so he keeps ignoring his mind's desperate calls.