not about a boy.

i am ok with leaving before the night is over, in bed by one, feet spared dancing. i am going to be ok with your unseeing eyes and noncommittal hellos and goodbyes. i'll sit on the couch in the corner of the dim-lit bar, and i'll pretend to be messaging someone. and soon, by prayer and petition, you will be excavated from me. and that will be ok.