and there it sits,
that half empty bottle,
and it wasn’t meant for a special
occasion, like a baptism or funeral or in between,
but it was meant to be.
And She rolls around in your mind,
though you can’t say her name,
for familial reasons
(thanks D [and if you say you know this, you reveal a lot]),
so you just sip quietly
and think of how not bad it is,
and that makes a lot of difference,
to compare and contrast
like fifth grade math.
It is better,
and that’s what you asked for,
when you went back to praying
for any kind of sign.
Maybe the sign was the kind of dog your ex wanted,
the one you wanted everything with,
and the one you love agreed
but had addendums
that were actual improvements
so you stay
and the routine is more like a massage
and the rules are lore and legend at this point
so you keep believing
at a time.