"Maybe."
Somehow, this word is comforting. It seems to possess the ability of keeping anyone in unending suspense. Somehow it doesn't assure, yet, it doesn't put off either.
It's comforting when something says this. Somehow, I'm left deliberately if it really is worth the wait or not; and if it turns out it was, I'm happy for having waited.
You don't have to assure me even if you know it might hurt me if you don't. I don't need something certain, I just need a reason to go on believing for a little longer it isn't insanity to think it. I just need to know that although I float constantly, I'm not out of orbit, that I'm still kept within— no assurances, no put offs.
Somehow, I'm left feeling excited, like that feeling you get when you answer correct to a quiz question. It's okay if you won't assure. Just hold on long enough for me to say goodbye. Do I not get to spin with you in this madness for a while? Let me be in the clouds in inner revelry for just a little longer, then I'll let go.
I'm not asking for you to hold onto me indefinitely. I don't need any
promises. I just need a 'maybe' .
YOU ARE READING
Whispers From The Dark
PoetryIt all started with one person -the bane of my existence. And from there, the whole random package. This has to be the deepest emotions I've felt penned down in one single book-did i break that person or did I end up broken?
