i'm sitting here waiting. i said yes, one last time to love's beckoning to open and untangle the dying parts and feed from the feast

i said yes to you but i was surprised by him. he walked in and out, steady and austere as though no secrets exist to betray his stoicism.

i sit here and wait for him to return. the wind is too harsh and brings in the faint smells of old hopes like love.

i wait by the steady pulse of a promise that i would and maybe you would come. i only want to forget and turn and hide

in the old antique tents that i built in the days of my youth. the walls were draped in lace with lily of the valley poking through the holes.

hanging were pictures of islands for escaping and mountains for dreaming and friends who fell and dropped in love's lap.

i don't want to fall. i don't want to be dropped.

but come with your strong hands and pray to keep open the heavy doors that always threaten to bar you out.

i wait, consoling myself that it doesn't mean much anyway. there are always thief-lovers who use the window traps.

i don't want to drop or disappear, and i never actually wanted to need an invitation to be lovely with lace draped over my eyes and lily of the valley tucked behind my ear.

oh love, i wait and you unfold layers of hurt that won't let me return. you unfold and i wonder what he will think and i am falling apart.

i wait, but don't let me down. gather me like old socks and darn back together the frayed nerves that ache from atrophy.

oh but the promise of a feast renders me incapable of anything else to do but wait...