hushed under the flannel blankets
that have formed a mountain on my bed,
i lie, hair tied and mascara running,
in wait of one ******* person
to let me know
that they care unfathomably about me
         is it really that hard
to be found dumbstruck at the sight
of the sunlight tangled in my hair
at 7 a.m.,
of me drinking mug after mug of coffee
on the porch as i write,
of me laughing with a shimmer in my eye
and trust and hope on the curves of my lips?

i guess it is quite difficult,
i cannot seem to be taken aback
by myself either.