pour.

its a red wine midnight, and
i am listening to the wsh, wsh, wsh
of water swirling through the dishwasher
sitting at my table, trying to figure out,
how to love less loudly, differently,
but i do not know how
and perhaps i do not really want to be different. 
i am whole.
multiplying fish and loaves.
and it's okay, to be that way,
even if it makes you ache inside, sometimes. 

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