Pronouning you

I try to write down names into a poem
and realize it does not work that way.
Nouns in particular seem to die and decay.
But pronouns sail well against the tide. 
There is always, a me writing and you reading 
even when only a fragment of it survives. 

And it is always a fragment that survives
not just in archaeology but in everyday. 
The salience of the past breaks up into
tiny tales before scurrying into oblivion. 
The body turns itself anew even without
our knowledge and every morning before the
mirror, only a fragment of yesterday survives
in our reflection and retrospection. 

And due to all this there is now an urgency 
with which I complete what I started and 
write what I want you to read.
Let you know that I think about you
before every sentence takes its place
and before it even makes any sense.