You cannot make someone love you, nor can you prevent it, for any amount of money.

I start to regret what I said.

I wasn’t watching words,

which felt best: there’s nothing unsaid,


Obviously there are things I don’t say;

you skirt a lot more than I do.

You’re braver. You can be.

The under layer of being best friends, ha, friends,

is anger.

I’ve said all I hoped of the past.

There is no therapy left.

The problem expressing each wrong, each ash, upset is,

sentence quick, jokes

are laced bile.

So when I said, “What do you know

of parenting?”

it was a mis-delivered line, an unintended strike;

Really, I meant, “Do you want kids yet?”


“With whom?”