It's gonna get obviously haywire, when a woman as passionate as I, falls for a man, as detached as you. There's flames going up in the air. That's bits and pieces of me, burning. I stay awake nights, procrastinating telling you. Wallowing in my shame. And tongue-tied-ness.
It's been this way for years. Yes, years in our such short lives. And I worthlessly realize that your love has rendered me incapable of nursing that emotion for another man. Even in forever.
I set imaginary deadlines, for culminating this thing that is. This thing that we have. And in my sleep, keep pushing that lazy frontier of time. Telling myself that this wait is worth every nanosecond in it, even if I don't get to have you at the end of it. Because, you are the only one. My solo.
It's you or no-one. So, I don't do anything about me. And I don't sit still either. I fret, cry, pray, in whatever intervals I get in between phases of loving you.
I look at distant blue windows and dream. And tell you, fall for me already. Fall, already.
You shrug, every time. And walk past.
An extremely confused, complicated, or embarrassing situation:
entanglement - complication