Molior

Is this love
Or merely a concept
A convenient construct
One within which you are safe
Protected by ignored barriers

Meanwhile

Fantasist that I am
I dwell in reality
Or should I say
I dwell on this reality

I am here
You are not
Professed desires
Followed by limited time

You praise my patience
As I bemoan that very thing
It is no gift to one as I
For patience wears thin

‘Ere long
I too may require

Reconstruction

© 2006, Mosquitobyte