perhaps he will even love me

these words are about him.
these thoughts are drenched in his sweat.

he told me on sunday morning,
that i was...
not wanted,
not desired,
not loved


by him.



i went to church
and prayed
and went home
and slept.

i slept the day away.




today, i woke up

and realized,
how very


alive i am.



i imagine him laying in his bed,
drenched in sweat.
i imagine him
sleeping.
(tired.)
(exhausted.)
living in his stinky house,
(which smells of male sweat, dirty socks, and cat feces)

in contrast,
my house is clean.

i pray that he wakes up
and cleans...
his soul,
his body,
his desires,
his home.


i still want to want him.
i still desire to desire him.
i will love him regardless of whether our lips ever touch again.


i hope that someday
i wake up
and
find him
beside me in my bed.

but for now,
i am content with my cat on the pillow,
my dog at my feet,
and a hot cup of coffee
as i listen
wistfully
to a song about life being better when we're together...

maybe someday,
he'll think so too.
perhaps he will even love me.