Waiting for you; anticipating the promise you made to me, when you let your gaze hang on me, without a word, yet infinitely more than mere words might convey, silently reassuring me of the arrival of one, I had been told would surely come but would come only once, a phantom. And I have been waiting for you, since that curious day in November, when you let your gaze hang on me, like a life line attempting to rescue me from myself. Or was it a noose? choking, erasing the substance from a long lost dream. Crack. Oh that? That’s just the sound of my heart breaking under the pressure of loving you, while trying not to love you. Not to worry. I’ve built walls so thick and tall, You probably couldn’t find me if you tried. Dare you to try… But I will no longer wait for you. Love me now, or not at all. For though I am young, my eyes have grown worn and weary, weary of looking for you to come to me, weary of searching your eyes, captivating, whirl pools of deception. The romantic fantasies that once fueled my pursuit of you have burned out and died, like a light dimming to a comfortable darkness, Where I can no longer see... you.