I want to be in your bed,
breathing you in
running my fingers
across your skin.

Don't you miss me?
I cannot stop thinking about you.

I wish I hadn't fallen
but I've lost myself in you
and the colic in the front of your hair
that begs to be stroked
as you softly snore.

I tried to resist
I should have known
that I never could.

Now I'm watching the once white snow
become splattered with muck
disgusting on the side of the road
as I'm sure you see me now.

Still I will wait
even though this is killing me
I know it wouldn't
if you didn't mean something.

Maybe I'll beg you
to read the words
spilling out of my soul.
Maybe I'll hide them
and pretend again
that I don't feel the way I do.

It is killing me
that I cannot be with you.