Wait to hear your voice.
Wait to have that one
Real glance -
I see the second-hand
On my watch turn into
A knife,
Each tick is a slash.
Fatigue sets in.
My anger simmers.
I question your intentions
And almost edge my
Longing into disgust.
But I wait.
I sit here gulping pain
And nursing my wounds
With your thoughts.
And as you make your
Steady appearance,
The flowers that bloom
Here,
Ward off my misery.
Life seems sorted
Thereafter.
Earth stands healed.
And I become the
Same fool again.