extra closet space

I don't think the pressure to

find love will disappear,

while walking through a world

of women with extra closet space

waiting to be used

and men alternating between

blue and red and black toothbrushes

on their bathroom counter.

then again, why should I give up

the dream of sharing a bed with someone

just because everyone I meet

shares theirs with everyone they meet?

my hands are tied in an invisible shackle

binding me down to this worlds

love for lust when my fight between

loving love and loving peace has a match

every single day.

maybe this is my late twenties,

maybe this is forever,

but either way,

i’m confused, but happy to navigate it.