29 September 2019

but a part of me anyway

thinks maybe there will

come a day when I’m on

a porch, but it’s twilight

still at 8:30pm and I’m 

writing but I’m not throat-

hurt lonely because there’s

someone inside who under-

stands I want to be alone

and there’s a difference 

(he knows) and joins me, 

maybe, after half an hour 

or so outside, with a smile 

that makes my heart flutter

and a warm cup of coffee.