I have my suspicions
about what I’m doing
wrong (another story
that I’ll save for later),
but have you a theory
that explains why your
body is betraying you?

I think this is a chance
for which I’ve waited:
a simple excuse to care.

Me and my faith and my
incessant dumb thoughts.

Well, hey, Creator, why
don’t you fix him now?

In my stupid and quiet
and unaffectionate way,
I may have brushed you
off. But let me promise
that next time, I won’t.

I’m a girl losing sleep in
my concern and desire to
be there with you, hoping
that anything I should do
would help and make you
feel better and significant.

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