Suspended By A Fragile Thing Called Hope Poem by Josh Rodriguez

it’s too hot in this room,
so i’m sitting shirtless,
rubbing sweat from
my brow,
and glancing at
the door you used
to walk through
every so often.

i want a cigarette,
and
i want a drink,
but

i would settle for
seeing your ponytail
move like a metronome
across your weary
shoulders
as you get out
of bed to go
for water
or to use
the bathroom;

i would settle for
the sensation
of seeing your
ponytail leaving,
but returning
this time,

a fallen star
stuck above
the sunken
empires on
your resilient
shoulders