Sonderwriter

Waiting for the storm

the agitated chambers of my heart

heat my body, burning

to be cooled by your touch.

waiting in unknown

is expecting agony every

waking second.

patience is a virtue

i do not have for love.

you, the blurry face in black

and white, blank pages

waiting for a story

I sit atop my chambers,

pushing them underneath

a veil of content,

patiently waiting for

your storm.

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