Waiting is indifferent to your desires.
Careless about the fires ignited for those
people and places you long for.
She has a cunning style,
cloaked in a fragrance of temptation.
Waiting is patient,
She waits until you cannot wait any longer.
Then She grips onto your life
with a hold that cannot be stronger.
She works universally,
unapologetically,
knows no boundaries,
dancing with our fragile hearts
simultaneously.
Waiting has no intention to comfort you.
No incentive to soothe your anxious mind
in the intervals of time in between.
For She holds time in her hand,
elongating it for no reason except for that She can.
She is cruel like that.
Waiting is cruel.
And then
just like that,
She is gone.
She’s replaced by a blink of euphoria
in the eyes that meet,
a sight of sweet smiles,
streets coming alive
just for you.
And all that time spent waiting
melts away.
She’s forgotten.
It’s a feeling worth waiting for.
