In the waiting room

Even the magazines are mocking me now,
smiling with romance like newlyweds.

But on New Year's Eve, we're both social scum.
Retreat in a corner with nothing but silence.

And I'm waiting for him to step into this room,
share with him the self-help books I've stocked
beneath my bed, ready for hibernation.

But I don't want a patient-psychologist kind of love.
I'm analysing my poetry as he's
running out of meeting-time again.

31-12-2013
11:28 AM