I keep waiting for him to come and save me; for him to find me and help me keep afloat. For him to be spiritual and brilliant and generous; and dominant enough to tell me no, yet never use the word. I keep thinking that he will arrive just in the nick of time, with light eyes and a bright smile, and quickly say "Take my hand!" But he hasn’t come . . . or he's come and gone. And when I had him I didn't know who he was. So I guess now it’s time I learn to swim; or simply row the boat ashore.
No comments:
Post a Comment