Waiting

Four months later, still waiting,
for a kiss on the forehead,
or that breathless moment
that our lips come together,
for a bedtime story about his past,
for an evening on the couch
connected by the same pair of earplugs,
for the moment he'd talk about the day
like he used to when we just met ...

and all he asks me is why I'm afraid
of intrusion.

And all I wanted to ask him
was why he was afraid
of baring himself.

Was he afraid of hurt?

But that would give away my answer,
half of it.

The other half is buried in a whiteout
I do not want to believe in.

17-01-2015
11:37 PM