Sometimes I feel as though I only picture you as a silhouette.
Coming and going; mostly going. The time shared never lasting long enough.
We hold our breath for our next chance, spending most of our time waiting on what seems like a distant idea.
Talk about a washer and dryer and the need for one of each.
The reality of it is not here. We must wait.

11:47 pm  •  15 January 2012  •  34 notes