why thank me? it’s a thankless job isn’t it?
the gnawing, the waiting. waiting for thanks. fasting for thank you.
fast thank you’s out of car windows speeding along sun burnt shoulders.
thank you for comfort, thank you for rest.
thank you for words of encouragement, thank you for saying, thank you for kicking around.
no thanks to the time you offered me something a wee bit more than a frozen magarita and a night of light kisses.
thanks for slinking around my skull like a wet piece of rubber i can’t pry my fingers under.
no ‘thank you’ matters more than the time you thought nothing of me at all.