Still

Still waiting.

Two words that describe so much meaning,

yet exist in empty moments of "no surprise".

I hate you. No, wait a minuet, maybe not.

But then what is this feeling?

Could it be reluctant disapointment? No, not that either.

We both know that touch of life.

I love you? Could be, but even that seems

far fetched.

So still I sit, comfort ready on hand,

waiting.

Reviews

[Fire&Ice]

The act of waiting gives me a terrible feeling, I could feel the tension rising in my body. I am slightly impatient. Simple, unique, and understandable. Write on.