I don’t care what I write tonight,

just that I do,

which I know,

sort of sounds like

I’m saying yes to a marriage

I don’t really believe in

and I’d be lying if I said writing for me

wasn’t like that sometimes,

full of the kind of doubt

that feels around in the dark

for a way into happiness

into where the real light,

the one that can’t be seen

inside the one that can’t be seen,

is you, praying yourself on.