The yearning of comfort leaves me empty and alone; thirsting emotion and unique love.

As does waiting for that first intimate moment shared in a kiss; the simple, yet monumental knighting of womanhood in America.

The inability to be patient for that moment, the thoughts of disbelief of the current location in the seemingly endless and singular journey of life leave me impatient and angry.

However, the desperate thoughts end in realization of the wastefullness of repetative motion.

Why thirst for this?

Why not wisdom or simple friendship?

Its something more than the sheer face appearance since one this is accomplished, all seems to afirm.