I hope that when
you're with her
and when her eyes
shine like
brighter days

that the smell of my
shampoo
lingers in your
senses
and that my touch
comes to mind

I'll wait every day
and I'll pretend that
I don't care that
you're running back to her

and I'll tell myself
it doesn't
matter,
and I'll still answer
your call

and when the thick, burlap
hotel
curtains are
stagnant
and the AC's pumped
to full

I'll let your fire consume me
and then watch you go
back to her.