if you cannot love me
when it’s 11 in the morning
and i am sitting barefaced
cross legged on the floor
my mother’s old t-shirt hanging off my shoulders
papers spread out in front of me
ink stained on my fingertips
a half eaten blueberry muffin in my lap
stress seeping out of me

don’t tell me you love me

if you only love me
when it’s after midnight
and my body is under your sheets
my lingerie is on your nightstand
my mouth tastes like **** and peppermint tea
and all the right words are coming out of it

it’s not love at all