I sit here staring,
at the wall.
The paint peeling,
while I wait for you.
Slowly dissolving,
until you might show up.
Every moment,
it gets more dead.
Why would you stay behind,
while something is dying.
Your presence can do so much more than you think,
until this mess is cleared.
I sit with my hands on my head,
just waiting, pleading for you.
But, now I have to wait,
for your arrival.

While the door knocks,
opens up and you pop in.
I rush into your arms,
and smell your normal scent.
The paint is relieved,
from the death peeling it away.
Just as you saved me from much worse,
the savior in my life.