I can't tell who ruined us
perhaps it's foolish to think
that it's not over
not yet cause  
we built a story and
called it home
Though maybe there were two stories
and we were on different floors but
when the whole house crumbled
we still ended up laying there
on the dirt
together
Phoenixes ready to
live and love again
even after you covered us in oil and I lit the match

While I was waiting for the train
To arrive
I realized why I don't feel mad or irritated
Waiting for it.
I don't have to think about the pause
The interval.
I could distract myself with gadgets, my imaginations and stuff.

I can think
About everything else
Except about the cessation and my patience.

Truly, your patience is really tested deeply
Only when you're thinking about how patient you have been before.

You'll feel obliged at yourself and you'll start to think
About how patient you've been and trust me
That's when you need to be careful with your mind.
That's the critical point.
That's the time your patience is really tested to its limits.

//

But my case is different with you.
I've waited for a long time
And after a certain point
I would overthink.

I would think of how long I've been waiting
And about how will I have to wait.

That's where it gets me
That's where my mind gets me, really.

Waiting for you
My mind cannot be distracted.

It's inevitable - both waiting and thinking about you
They come in one package; inseparable.

//

That's why to wait for someone hurts.
The thing is, you know the train would come, eventually.

It won't ever feel the same as waiting for a train
It would cut and hurt you deeper than any suffering
You'll ever have to bear.