How do I describe
these feelings that rage in me,
the ways I think of you,
even in my sleep.
To know that if I reach out
that yes, you will be there,
but you will turn away,
my hand pass through air.
To only feel your touch
for a few seconds every day,
is a torture in itself
carries its own hellish pain.
So I will keep on waiting
trying to figure out my place,
Waiting only to see
if you will close the space.
