When will you Believe?
The sun streams into my bedroom. We lay entwined, spent, basking in the aftermath of release. Outside, a bus churns by on 14th Street. The scent of curry
floats up from the Indian restaurant. My stomach growls.You say: It’s a trust thing. I say: When will you believe? You say: What if I never do? I say: When there’s a will, there’s a way. You say: I’ve been hurt before. I say: Who the hell hasn’t been? You say: I don’t know if I can do this. I say: But you are, you already are. You say: I have my own life to consider. I say: Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me.]]>