Hope is Elusive on Tuesdays


Every time you say this time
will be different, I believe you.
So I brush off the past,
pretend my clothes aren’t musty with it,
my lungs aren’t clogged with it. Pretend
I can breathe again without gasping,
because this time will be different.
And I believe you, so I wait.

I wait for you to notice the silence
and wonder why we don’t fight anymore.
I wait for you to ask what I’m thinking,
to notice I’m crying, to remember I’m here.

But you’re busy calculating how much time
and effort are worth expending, and
I realize I am not a variable in your
exquisite equations. Yet I’ve failed
to write or solve my own. Why believe
in an us that barely exists? A faint heart
drawn in dust then brushed away.
A breath barely held before exhaling.

I fear nothing better will happen,
that every effort is a waste of time.
I fear nothing matters. I am nothing,
and our life together is a lie.

What’s no big deal to you is
everything to me in this struggle
to find something good about life,
to keep something bright in my life,
to make something more of this life,
because every day is a fight to
find meaning where there is none.
So I choose to believe you. Every time.