Day 7

As you sit across the coffee shop from me,

I wonder if you’re wondering why I look so miserable.

Am I hung-over?

Is that why there are deep dark coffee stain rings around my eyes?

Am I ill?

If so, why am I in public? Would I much prefer to be in bed

under thick quilts?

Am I stressed?

Working on a paper that for the life of it won’t come to fruition?

Upset?

Maybe I just got dumped?

Well, I don’t drink, so I’m not hung-over.

I’m feeling pretty alright, but most days I have at least

the shadow of a headache, (genetics you know).

And I’m in public because if I stayed in bed this paper wouldn’t get written,

so yes,

I am stressed and I am working on a paper

that for the life of it won’t come to fruition.

I am upset, but not for me,

for the broken pieces of my sister’s heart

upon learning of his infidelity.

So, no.

I didn’t sleep much last night.

I lay awake wondering how this could happen to her,

how that happens to anyone.

And then I felt thankful,

because none of my loves have taken such ill care of my heart.

I almost called one of them this morning,

just to thank him for not fucking someone else,

for respecting me

and treating me with dignity,

but I didn’t because that should be a decent, minimal

expectation.

It will continue to be my expectation,

not the exception.

So, I’m sitting here writing a poem about

the expression I know is littering my face.

Also, I have my period and my body hurts.