wait

in a hotel room
by the hotel pool
waiting
for a loved one to be drained of all blood
and sliced
and diced
(secretly hoping they will replace the old bitter liquid with a sweeter juice)
and made (sorta) new again

walking around
this hollow little town
(disguised as civilization)
thinking the big thoughts and
craving chocolate

trying not to be crushed and land locked and pulled back into the vortex

you grow while you are away from the person who constantly tries to box you up and stamp you into ash

And then you don't fit. No matter how much he stomps.

And I don't stomp anymore. My heart's never been in it.

So here I sit
and wait.