A peanut butter and jelly sanwich at one in the morning.
I missed your call around eleven.
I'm so sorry, honey.
Couldn't sleep since...
Hoping you would, perhaps, attempt it once more.
So I sit here with my sandwich and milk,
Thinking--maybe too heavily--about our future;
Betting my precious little remaining romantic hopes on what will likely not happen.
Expecting too much of you.
And yet: you might come through.
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