where the writers are

It's no secret that I love you. I've told you and showed you such that it cannot be denied.
It's no secret that I miss you. I reminisce about the talks we had, the laughs we shared.
But I have this secret: I wait for you.
I sit outside like I swore I never would.
Spitting seeds now instead of smoking cigarettes.
For hours, I wait.
I imagine that I hear your music in my head and that you will be here soon.
Only the music never gets louder.
and you never get nearer.
You would think I would know by now
to stop waiting.
Stop dreaming.
Because you lied.
still I wait.
Imagining what I will say to you.
Fantasizing about sending you away with nothing.
And fantasizing about being able to give you everything.
Everything you need.
Everything you want.
Everything she doesn't.
Everything I cannot.
And everything... I cannot.
My life, I would.
My thoughts, I have.
My love... I forever will.
Your face chills me.
Your voice hurts me.
Your smile warms me.
Your hands...
your hands.
The hands that have held me,
Struck me,
Cut me,
Touched me.
I'm tired now.
Tired of waiting.
Because you lied.