love is nothing but a jumble of thoughts that some how make me smile and get me no where but to a make-shift, hobble of a home

today i slept on my bed, curled up next to my dog.
i anticipated his call. it did not come.

i became entranced with depression, and sunk into my despair.

at 12 he called. at 12:23 he fell asleep.
i lie awake,
counting the stars that appear on my ceiling as the night grows brighter.

something makes me love him.
something makes me cry.

and something tells me these things should not be connected.

but not all beauty can be identified in the moment in which it occurs.