beside railroad tracks.

It is too cold to be standing out here.
(It’s too cold for this perpetual state
of needing you.)
There is too much for me to mull over in silence;
too much for my drowsy mind to ponder
and wander around.
My feet hurt.
I have been rocking on my heels
for what seems like hours.
Has it been only ten minutes?
What time is it?
I’ve forgotten my watch,
but I remember my worry,
as usual.
The sun is rising,
and I have always loved sunrises,
so maybe being out here
won’t be as bad as I thought.
(But I am still waiting.)
Waiting can be as tiring
as standing around,
looking at nothing,
because sometimes they are the same thing.
I am looking at something.
(I thought I was.)
I came here with the notion that
you wanted to see me;
that you were not just a memory,
a long-dead flame
I am trying to rekindle.
It is still cold out, so I shiver
and pull my sweater tighter
around my arms that used to open up to yours.
But I don’t want to think about that, now.

Inspired by Desertedroad’s post, found here.

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