i am waiting for you in the kitchen.
hidden in white ceramic tiles,
and tea cups.
god, i hate
being so invisible.
i spin around in your bedroom.
i make the bed.
i take a shower and get real clean and
wait for you to come home.
looking at a calendar trying to figure out
which month it is, which month it was.
the weather is so ordinary in your life.
you're not warm, you're not cold.
you're just dying,
which is not something you want,
but is not something you don't want either.