heaven forbid.

he calls me nearly every night,
sighing and rambling in that rumbly
pre-man voice that wisps like fresh-washed wool
against my ears and heart and cunt
when he’s tired;

we fight about small things,
make jokes of major issues,
and i tease him because sometimes
he falls asleep midsentence, mid-ramble
mid-us

i say, well goddamn i had no idea i was that boring
and he protests and goes silent
like he doesn’t realize i’m teasing
(i don’t think he does)

it took me weeks– until now, to be honest
to realize, as i lay on my bed reading while he slept
listening to his occasional fits of breath, his sleepy murmurs
and my own beating heart–
it took me up to this moment in time to realize

sometimes he calls just to hear my voice
and i am holding my breath because
the thought in my head at this epiphany is shaped a lot like
good god, he cares.

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