Waiting for the feeling to return
like running inside,
pulling off frost-bitten mittens
and holding your hands close
stretch your fingers and
warmth returns.
but the frost is on the inside
this time, there is nothing
to be done.
walk like a waking dream
that never fades away
speaking of things that mean
nothing to you as the auto-pilot
kicks in.
your real self is too exhausted
to run the show
too tired to regret
sleeping life away;
dreaming reality away…
tell yourself that you will return
*'someday'