I don’t have milk for tea.

I was disappointed at least five times
this weekend, I hate change, and
it itches at me, epidermically, builds beneath
my scalp so that I want to hide
and you get mad that I could suspect
you of taking me for a ride.
Today more than five people glanced at me
and I almost cried. I’m raw from before.
Bare apologies, didn’t even promise me
it wouldn’t happen anymore.
But this evening, for five minutes at least,
she and you were asleep
lying on me, moments I wish i could
catch, preserve, and keep.
I love you heaps.

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