A Wait

I see him in spurts, sometimes taking the bins out, sometimes washing his old pick-up truck.Through the blinds, I see his slitted form.

Ah, he is not slitted, my view is. 

And I know it will remain as is forever. I know I will never have the courage to set foot outside again. To walk up to him. My scars are painful, the mirror shows me my horrible, deformed, ugly form.

Yet, I wait for him. I wait for him to somehow see me and feel me behind the blinds, see my yearning and my love, see me beyond my ugliness.

I wait for life, neither alive nor dead, burrowing deep into my own self, waiting him to make me whole and alive again. A wait that will never be over.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: