Yes, I, of agnostic temperament

I don't believe in God,
but I do believe in something better.

I think of her pretty tears
when I am on my last push-up.

I think of my fears
when I am fighting my way out a swamp.

Each slide of the wet mop;
each push of the broom. 

If only Dragana lived here and loved me,
then maybe I could move on.

My fury is faster than bus fairs,
and there is no structured narrative. 

I pray she remains;
I prey on wishes on everything. 

Let's meet up for one night in July
and pretend we both believe in love.