A Lonely Moment

Sitting sets my addiction, 

on the ground, surrounded 

by these pictures, scattered and in stacks

and therefore, you.

Staring at my reflection, ruined 

by the swift movement of the second 

hand in the tiny timepiece 

you gave to me.

I count it a blessing and I wait 

for the eventuality 

or the courage to realize

you are never going to show 

your face, no matter what these hands 

may hold for me, 

that time has surely passed. 

Author's Note

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