Poetry

Waiting, Wanting, Needing

She dances gracefully

on the wisps

of non-existent memories

in my heart,

spurred on by music box melodies

of songs yet to be written.

I want and I beg

for her to leave,

to trod on the worn-out

welcome mat

on her way out,

but the thought of her leaving

hurts me in another, yet familiar, way.

My head bobs,

my foot taps.

Some pollution of ignorance

still travels through

my veins.

It wants her to go

but

I need her

to stay.

2 thoughts on “Waiting, Wanting, Needing

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