Close, connected, and coiled like my own fingerprints,
A beautiful art crafted in my own design
With no prepared script, only intentions
That ache to be known, to be held.
The urge to wait
For someone to call, even send a text
A single thread holding two important souls.
A whisper in my head begs
For a whisper back to ease the tension.
I wait without knowing why.
In a room full of things, but empty
Thousands of questions left unanswered,
Hope so heavy it stretches every second into decades.
I make promises to myself,
And end up disappointing
The one I’m left with.
It’s easy to ignore everything
But impossible to avoid what’s already a need,
What breathes within me like oxygen
In my skin, in my being.
Our blood is thick,
Yet cannot be replaced by water.
Still, even blood
Is formed using water.
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 8:28 AM UTC
Close, connected, and coiled like my own fingerprints,
A beautiful art crafted in my own design
With no prepared script, only intentions
That ache to be known, to be held.
The urge to wait
For someone to call, even send a text
A single thread holding two important souls.
A whisper in my head begs
For a whisper back to ease the tension.
I wait without knowing why.
In a room full of things, but empty
Thousands of questions left unanswered,
Hope so heavy it stretches every second into decades.
I make promises to myself,
And end up disappointing
The one I’m left with.
It’s easy to ignore everything
But impossible to avoid what’s already a need,
What breathes within me like oxygen
In my skin, in my being.
Our blood is thick,
Yet cannot be replaced by water.
Still, even blood
Is formed using water.
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