Waiting On


Sitting, cold,
alone. Holding a flame
on my own. Was I to blame
for love. Have I tried 
too hard? As I often have
before. I believe in God.
Though rejection makes me
unsure. I never prayed
for love. Though I’ve been told
actions make it so. 
I diverged from the story I was telling.
In wind howling, heart swelling,
I looked, waited, and sat. That idea
should be reflected upon. The small slights
make a difference. 
And it should be noted
what I have done. What I did. 

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