What if I do pray?
I know, Ti, God is nothing to me but I’m praying through this awfully hot days.
While my brain is slowly dying to death along with my eyes for the sun and humid air.
While I exercise like a madwoman.
While I drive fast on the highway.
When I find myself thinking of you, looking through tea depths, in my few moments of rest.
At 5.50 am when I usually wake.
I see what I can’t.
I hear nothing, and you are in the shell of my ear.
It is maddening more than anything else I ever knew.
If God existed it would hear my prayers, isn’t it?
If it was a benevolent God, that is…
I know you would smile that knowing crooked smile, now.
All finesse and glinting eyes.
Smoke shimmering in your breath, the sweet cherry flavour of the tobacco you use.
I can savour it on my tongue now.
Maybe the stillness of this heat will make me mad…I don’t truly care if I can have you.

And saying those dammed words that will never leave my mouth.
Shall I wait when it’s going to be too late?
Yes, because I am that kind of idiot.
Silly little thing with an iron will who can plow for its dreams in the midst of the last deathly heatwave  of the summer and then turn spineless coward with fear of an imminent end to happiness.

And I pray, yes, more than you’ll ever know.

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