Waiting on You.

There's something to loneliness.



I reminds me that I'm waiting for You; not him, not her, not it, not that. You.



I miss you, Yellow Bird. It's paradox, I know. We've never really met. Or have we? I'm sure I've seen You in a million different eyes and felt You in thousands of hands. Either way, I long for You. To see You. To hear the ressonance of Your voice. To touch Your hands where my name is written. To smell and taste all that You are.



I'm lonely today, my Yellow Bird. Come soon, okay? Come soon.