Forever Watching

Wild Heart Scribe

The tip of my nose
clears a spot on the
cool, frosted window
watching you leave.
Always watching,
a forever spectator of someone’s departure.
When do I get to leave?
Where is my dramatic exit?
Who will watch me walk away?
No one.
I like to stay.
The clock keeps cruel count.
My pain pathetic
tick tocks to poetic.
You round the corner.
I fire the engine.
I drive away
and wish someone was watching.

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