Drought.

Let me get out of your way.

What do I do?

If it's repetitive in what is said, and consistent with its motives, then what is there left to say? Should I move out of your way? I feel almost like I'm a cloud. Can't you see? A cloud that is too far away to block your sun, but nonetheless a cloud.

I do know this much - I do not like feeling like a cloud. I want to feel your sun rays, and be a part of your happy days. But, instead, I'm still distant and floating. There's not much to say any longer. I've rained so much, so much so that there is no longer a well to drink from. I wish you could see. I draw confusing conclusions that, possibly, I care too much. You say no. I say actions speak louder than words. You say I think too much. I do think too much. But I wish you could see.

I want to be the one to say the wait is so worth it. I wish you could see.


I don't want to "build my walls up, concrete castle." Again.