Wasteful of love

I still wait for you sitting here in my weird dark room, but I know what I’m waiting for may never come or will be coming too late. I want no more suppositions.

I think of you as someone so calm and adorn my place with your vague and unstable image. I don’t want to daydream anymore.

I smile because you show yourself so flattering and attract me with softness and tenderness. I don’t want to give up on expecting.

I’ve heard your sleepy voice and made me want to look at you when you wake up in such a lazy way. I want to keep on hearing you.

I have problems to decide whether I love you or not. I wonder if it’s so significant. I am just frightened to take anything for granted.

I don’t want to get away and stop hoping. I want rather to play down the importance of those doubts that only disturb me.

This is how I find myself, snuggled down with my intrigue and waiting for your reasons until you could answer or I admit my foolishness.