It is the only thing worth the wait,

the bait of some unresponsive

destiny, morphing and deserving

with all the fancies of the heart -

 

the glance of some, positioned perfectly

for my love, the kind that dipped into me to help

or stood outside and never knew me.

An unimaginable amount of things

 

suspend themselves in the hint of love,

the ripe clutch of any You. You could return me

to my glory, the whole of me

contained in the wrestle of love –

 

conditioned upon yours, something I will never

know.

For sure, for sure, the only way to be

 safe in circumstances so opaque

 

is to keep the inner crave, make believe –

keep it so unreal, keep it fake

and the twitch, the tourette’s of your mistakes

will be

 

no claim on your always hurting heart.