-Waiting-
I'm waiting
again.
You're not here.
You never are.
With hands that
curl,
claw,
pressed between my bruised thighs,
I wait.
You're not here -
you never are.
You couldn't -
wouldn't -
save me.
And as I wait,
the pain a living,
breathing,
entity in my chest,
I realise,
I didn't want to be saved.
But I'll still wait,
even when,
You're not here.
YOU ARE READING
Back Of My Book.
PoetryRandom bits I wrote on the back of my maths book - not all of them make sense, but all of them are from the heart.