I’m waiting…

I’m here

I’m stuck here

waiting for you

waiting for us

waiting for magic

to exist

when magic doesn’t

exist.

I’m hoping that it does.

I’m waiting

I hate waiting

or maybe I just hate fighting

it’s hard

yearning for something

intangible.

Waiting for something

unknown.

Striving for something

that I can’t

taste,

touch,

smell,

only feel—

a pitter-patter in my chest

only see—

(well only kind of)

in thoughtful actions.

I’m holding out

for magic.

Magic I’m not sure

exists.

But here I am,

stuck here,

waiting.