I will always wait for her, the essence of

Her soul like a balm that heals old wounds

Beneath an armor of isolation that falls a

Piece at a time with every word I hear

Spoken from her lips.

It is an armor I have written of before in

Other pages, this Chronicle of Lost Regrets

That I pen for you now, its bindings thick

With yesterdays long past and tomorrows

Uncertain, except that I wait.

An armor crafted by another that I chose to

Wear, she has found its weakness near the

Center of my heart, her weapon a mighty

Force, long unseen by the likes of me,

Named Kindness.

I wait for her always, even still, with a

Patience that must surely speak volumes

Of its own, in a book from a different

Genre I have not written for a very long

Time and dare not name…

END

“I Wait”