Dear,

When I try to grip the world and fight against my ego,

That's when I come closest to loving

Only myself.

So I thought I'd jot this down on the back of my hand,

Thought I'd walk for a while in God's spit,

Watch it wash away, say,

Hey,

Forgive me,

But in order to keep my words true,

I have to stop writing for a while,

And in order to live more fully,

I need to be dead for a couple days.

Solomon,

Yeah, I need a little bit more of you...

More from the man who calls me Hannah,

More of the days where I'd walk in God's spit, singing.

Does he know how long Hannah waited?

I don't mind,

really--

When I was having an anxiety attack

Last night, when I was punching my forehead

To feel a sting, he said, Think of something

calm, beautiful,

I thought about the time I rode my horse for six hours,

Got lost in a storm,

Called out to no one, held on to her mane--

Waited.