i leave the light on too long

and hope that among the light-smitten moths and curious children and thirsty boys who are drawn to the light

there will be you too

i think i'm better than that

i think i bite my lip too hard

when you say something that shouldn't matter but does

and bite my nails when they're too sharp

because it feels like you don't leave the light on at all

you leave it on like a mother who lets her children play outside and has faith that they'll come in when they're ready

or doesn't pay one eye to the backyward and sips her wine as she scrolls

i don't know i guess i was expecting

something a little more

like a promise

as if to say

i am always ready for you

come in

i made chicken noodle soup and its on the counter