i ran through the sheets
of a portland thunderstorm
splashing through freezing puddles,
laughing at the crash of lightning
coinciding
with the city.
i was still warm from sleeping
in my lover's empty bed,
curled up and contemplating
"stay," he said
despite his weeklong absence,
with the half-hearted excuse of
watering his plants
i know well enough
it's not about tomatoes, or
a house that needs no sitting
this is about having someone
creating a home
to return to,
about sleeping solitary,
but not alone.
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