Sometimes I count backwards from 10 hoping with each passing number a month could go by so that when I reach February you still want me to die and we still both agree on something.
I keep your letters under the mattress like we used to, sometimes I feel brave enough to ask if you read the letters I sent you whenever you're tired but then I feel like that question would have to be followed by me asking you to send them back.
Even counting down from 5 would be good enough if it meant it was back to the part when you said you'd thought about it too.
Giving someone space by telling yourself to read their signals like an instruction manual and wait for the right away as if you've never given it to anyone else.
Still giving you space because I'm blind enough to not be able to tell when I should make a decision.
Maybe I could try to call you and count the rings before you answer.
I could wait for you to call me and save the candle from my 7th birthday for when I turn 70.
If I never texted you again I wouldn't have to to tell my future kids what serendipitous impatience feels like.
If you read this you're gonna realize it's about you as fast as I realize every girl I talk to still sends their ex messages at one in the morning on the edge of whiskey soaked lips.
In retrospect that's equally as fast as when I realize I build homes in muddy coloured eyes.