Waiting, still

Cold hands waiting

in the whispering wind,

body pulling itself apart

thinking of home

or the closest feeling to it

-

waiting, waiting, waiting,

watching the sun rise

then set

a whole day, a whole night,

waiting for you

to appear.

-

The lines grow and shrink again,

waiting, still,

the tides roll in and slalom home again,

waiting, still,

waiting still,

the soup goes cold, is tossed aside

waiting, still,

waiting, still,

waiting,

still…

-

Cold hands, icy, rub together for warmth,

the air bitter and biting beneath the blinking streetlight, 

the truth painfully

illuminated,

your warmth is not approaching.

-

Perhaps it never was,

but ignorance is bliss

unhappy truths are swallowed whole

and I am happier to stomach them

even as it revolts, 

my oesophagus blocked,

guts sick and angry.

-

I am waiting, still

I am waiting, still,

I am waiting, still,

waiting for the sight of you,

praying it can warm these hands

before they freeze

and shatter.