I Hate Counting

I found myself counting

and that was the time

I realized —

I didn’t mind.

I didn’t mind the lost hours,

minutes,

seconds.

All I do is watch —

as these turned into

days,

weeks,

and months.

I didn’t mind losing sleep,

I was in too deep

as I count the times

you laugh

or snore

on the other line.

I didn’t mind

not having you

because I know

at the very least —

I love you

from the moment

I started counting.

Ten months

and I didn’t mind

us going in circles

and circles —

going in whirls.

You —

not loving me

and me —

relentless,
believing.

That I could crack
that one egg

I could make
parallel lines meet

I could perhaps

maybe —

make you love me

in the end

until I finally

lost count.