The Waiting



I'm waiting for something real. 
I've been waiting for something real 
All my life. 
I light a cigarette 
In the open air. 
Hoping the wind chases the smoke away. 
I feel the prick of a burn 
That says; 
This happened yesterday. 
You stood on the same steps. 
The same crossed legs. 
Head back against the wall of 
the old house on fifth street. 
Surveying nature. 
Separate from moving things. 
Who are you to me? 
Are you a ghost 
Sensuos and stubborn. 
Smoothing your invisible skin, 
Along the cracks in my aged 
Flesh, 
Are you the dream 
I made love to last night, 
The dream I cried 
And scrunched in the sweaty 
Palms of my fist. 
A far away dong sounds 
In a distant world. 
Time stands still for no one. 
Yet she is limitless and endless, 
And doesn't procrastinate. 
If that makes sense. 
I'm waiting for something 
Real, 
I've been waiting all my life, 
The early morning blue arises, 
And I wait, 
Sourly, 
Agedly once again.

Written by Otatade Iseghohi Okojie

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