Where do I hang Affection?

Pack your boots.

I have a box to keep it crisp.

Listen now.

You hear my voice, these words are exclusive:

Affection.

It's better hanged on a permanent spot.

If it's not, the feeling is most hollow and unsettling.

So, where do I hang mine?

To you? To him? To the frog that turned into a prince?

Give me a clock.

I need some tick tack to know if I'm wasting time thinking.

Thinking of you, of him, and of my dream.

Just because my affection needs a new spot.

I wore a dress.

It's for your eyes to stay fancied.

Watch me now.

I'll stop. My smitten eyes can rest on you.

You. A dream.

My affection is the cloud.

From above looking down for a cup that it's rain can fill in.