All I do

Is sit in my room

And feel sorry for myself.

It feels like so long

Since the day we met,

And now all I do is wait.

I’m not ashamed to admit

I’m withering.

I’ve been carving your initials

Into my eyes

The exact same way

I try to carve sanity

Out of the thoughts
That I’ve been dissecting

In this conceited attempt

At poetry.

Such a sad condition

To admit that I’m broken…

And worse,

Still,

Impatient.