The water in sinks drips.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"Load the fire! We don't want to be cold."
Kiss the dogs.
"Night night."
"Goodnight, Mama.
Goodnight, Dad."
The water in sinks drips.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Night is upon us.
The water in sinks drips.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"Load the fire! We don't want to be cold."
Kiss the dogs.
"Night night."
"Goodnight, Mama.
Goodnight, Dad."
The water in sinks drips.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Night is upon us.
Love is a paradoxical thing.
I want desperately to be loved.
I want to wake up to a "good morning, my favorite person" text.
I want the last thing I see at night to be a little red heart emoji.
Even with my friends, I'm alone.
They date. They love each other.
They don't think I notice
They don't think I notice how stingy we're becoming:
They don't think I notice the reluctance to use the propane heat.
They don't think I notice how cold it is when I crawl out of bed every morning.
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