If only hope were not wild. If only hope were synonymous with certainty. Or maybe premonition.
Then I could believe, that one day I'll be able to reach out and touch you.. and know that it won't last just a fraction of a second. That you're here. For real. For ever.
But now is not our time, you're right.
It's hard.. this waiting. But it is worthwhile. It will always be, that way. For years, if it takes, or even ages.
Because it pains, even to imagine, a life otherwise.
Without the promise of your arms after a long, hard day.
Without the smile on your face when our eye-lashes melt together.
Without the warmth of your hands on my skin.
Without that little something to live for.
Because for me hope isn't about certainty or premonition.. It's about everything I am.
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