poem: therapy is cheaper when you’re in a relationship

I really must not pin
hope on people who do not (yet)
exist;
one day, he might want
to lean over the table and hold my eyes
and hear the personal hell
but in the tight space between 60 seconds and
one minute, we are still nothing;
he does not care about the damning
things that i must care about,
that i must take and cut open
for the clock gods, those little shits,
always checking in
and making sure
that I am not
too happy, I am not yet okay.

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