-

Sitting by the phone
sipping my iced tea

waiting for your call
to reassure me

that you got home safe
and there's no worries

All good things take time.

If you see him and your heart-
doesn't flutter

your tummy-
doesn't feel like there are butterflies in it

hang on;
give the caterpillars time-
for time will tell you
what really matters.

Hide my little smile
Every time you say my name

Hide my blushing face
Every time you say something sweet

Hide every leap of my heart
Whenever you call me yours

How long do I have to hide?
When I can tell them you're mine?

Got all these thoughts inside my head
And you're the only one who understands.
Why do we have to be apart?

Feels like I'm living on a ferris wheel
My world is spinning all around me.
Why is this so hard?

I'm trying really hard to be sensible
But the stars seem just out of my grasp.
It's driving me crazy.

I tell myself to just move on and forget
But your voice won't get out of my head.
Am I actually complaining?

2000 miles, dear, how do we fix that?
And everyone keeps telling me to stop.
I can't see the end here.

All I know is that I love you.
All I know is that I am willing to wait.
Is that enough?

Why did you fall in love with me?
Why did you make me love you?
What do we do now?

I was a stranger to closeness. To entangled arms and whispered conversations. To tracing lines in my palms like a map, to fingers drawing down my back. Exposed but not uncomfortable. I had never been held. And the thought bewildered me as I realized that my companion thus far was loneliness. Loneliness like a pill I could not swallow so I learned to breath around and wait out. How do I explain this loneliness? It gutted me until empty was normal and the dull ache was a regular occurrence. Like the desperate need to cry out all the water lingering in my body but having nothing to give. Shaking and fighting against the vile feeling in my throat that would never move. I was accustomed to loneliness but how could I not be when I'd never been held, or touched, or felt like I was worthy of love? I blamed my body, adopted silence, fuelled with anger as time passed and I waited, I waited, I waited, and waited - for nothing.
Nothing could ease what I had never known but somehow always desired. And here it was, real, and it felt right, why would I say no to the feeling I begged to taste. It didn't leave my tongue numb, it didn't let me down. It wasn't what they told me it would be. It didn't feel like I was giving anything away. It felt like being held, being whole, my numbness subsided as I just felt. Felt my loneliness melt away, felt my skin being brushed and caressed, not loved but not alone. It wasn't beautiful but it was more than I had before and I clung to it until I couldn't anymore and in my car the loneliness buckled itself in and I drive it home where it helped me wash my face clean and wrapped itself around me like my blankets as I caved into the hollowness of its home. I realized I don't have to drown with my anchor heavy heart. I could find closeness in a stranger.

the idea that waiting
can bring you things you know
and never knew you needed
makes me realize
that there is hope in waiting.

i guess
that's why
we live for so long
and so short a time:
because we're waiting
and have waited
for all the best things
the world can conjure.

Time waits for nobody.
So, speak
what your heart
aches to say,
And do
what your heart
pines to do.
Time waits for nobody.

This is my side of
the bed. I have
lain here my whole
life. I daren’t
cross the threshold
to the other
side, which remains

spotless, impressionless,
free of wrinkles
and other signs
of life.

I lie like the lifeguard
tells you to lie in
the waterslide:

feet crossed at the ankles,
arms across
the chest.

I lie in perfect
coffin etiquette,
shaping myself within
intangible confines,
cozy and secure.

I have lain here my whole life,
and in my dreams
you are next to me—

I have prepared this space
for you
my whole
life

and I am waiting
patiently
for a sign
of
life.

I am waiting
for the sheets
to wrinkle,
and a mass
to take shape,
and the mattress
to indent,
and the pillow
to sigh—

I am waiting
for cold feet
to shock mine,

I am waiting
for strong legs
to ensconce mine,

I am waiting
for a torso
to touch mine,

I am waiting
for an arm
beneath my neck,
a hand on my
cheek,

I am waiting for warm breath
on my face,
and the silhouette of a face
to taunt me in
the shadows—

I am patiently waiting
for the day
I cross
the threshold

into occupied
space.

Good things come to those who wait
But great things come to those who make it happen
-s