It's getting real
fucking close to
6pm.
and I've never been
so cold as I sit in
this godforsaken truck
in this fucking parking lot
waiting for you.
fuck, it's so cold.
my fingers feel tight
as I flip the page in
this book I've been
reading for months,
I'm close to tears.
I'm cold, please
just come back
to this truck.
Just, touch me
or hold me
or do something,
just come back.
don't leave me in
this truck, in this
parking lot on this
cold February evening.
and as I flip to
the last page
the tears are pooling
and you open that door
and you touch my hands,
they're cold to your fingertips,
but I've never felt warmer.
a.l.m
this poem has no meaning
Interpret is however you want
