my hands
twirl my hair
clockwise
as my being is paused
in uncertainty,
for none is your master,
not even time.
no, you refuse to consort
not for any thing
not for any one
not even time,
not even time runs your schedule,
so here I am,
my hands go clockwise
as I wonder
how long
you will keep me waiting

Am I a fool?
waiting on a rainy stair step
      shivering through bitter winds
on the chance I might see
     headlights pull into the lot?
   That I could catch him smile
     as he sees me?
        Am I a fool?
two hours in
   to think still, he'll embrace me
and squeeze me so hard
     the million little paranoid parasites
     might just pop out,
             and while I bury my face in his neck,
I won't have to doubt.

        Am I a fool to think so?

you took out the dustpan and broom
and swept while I mopped the dining room
     we had every DIY cleaning solution
in the palm of our hand,
    we went through the house
with a fine tooth comb
          knowing neither of us
                  ever really called this place home

wrapped in his arms
                 I feel only warmth
               and un-yeilding
                  
                              *serenity

I walked by the counter

and noticed the roses,

drained pigment

now pink

and wrinkled

crisp and withered.

I think to myself

why, when ever did that happen?

only yesterday they stood tall and red.

I long for you to touch me
and love me
feel your fingers up my back
pulling on my hair
I long for you to touch me
and love me
but I
can't do it again
no I
can't feel the pain
of knowing
you long for touch
but not for love
you long for me
but
        not
                for
                       *me