I write to you,

raw emotion and childish intrigue

concealed behind pretty sentences.

I am too much of a coward

to be honest by looking at your face,

so I use coy mystery to communicate my helplessness.

Can you unmask the longing behind these fancy words?

Last night, I turned to Jack and Johnny for comfort.

This morning, Hendricks whispered something delicious

into my ear.

And now, wide awake and sober,

I turn to you, in the hope that you tell me what it is

the hell I am hoping for.

January 2, 2023.