Purgatory.

 

The endless wait, the infinite tide of fear and anxiety washes over again.

I wait to see you come in, your angelic face shining like a beacon in an ocean of despair,

A bead of sweat races down my temple, staring down at the pages in my hand,

waiting second after paralyzing second until you inquire.

Slowly driving me insane till the only comfort I am entitled to is a simple conversation from your mind of wit and wicked fury.

I slaved, I toiled, I worked away at my own soul, I mined out the fondest of words, the most loving of appraisals, all to give you the warm heat of a dedicated verse.

As I sit there, bearing my heart and soul to you, making you feel more loved and cared for than the more revered of royalty,

I await my commendation, a minor sign that you return these emotions,

I begin searching desperately for a distraction to stop me from hearing cold silence that awaits me.

Oh the deafening sound of silence, the way it quivers the hardest of souls,

the way it chops away at the crops of my patience exposing me to the intolerable insanity of,

Purgatory.

The wait of an inquired poem, the minute you wait to tease my soul and heart fiendishly.

The moment you hesitate drives me a little more insane,

a little farther off the edge,

a little closer to the banks of despair.

No matter what the circumstance, I cannot forget about the emptiness you cause me, in the terrifying, perpetual state of,

Purgatory.

 Sending an armada of soft kisses to send you off on your journey into the sub-conscious,

weaving poetic ties for you, my love, in the same fashion time has weaved the stars together to cover the inky black that surrounds us now.

Wishing the fairest of fortunes and fighting the foulest of curses for you.

I catch my breath internally, waiting for your word,

I wait in the space worse than hell for yet another moment as you ponder each second like an eternity,

as you surely think of a way to top me and to make me feel as wonderful as I have you.

Slowly as the words come from your mouth, I begin to wish your red, soft lips had remained closed, so I may have gotten at least a night’s kiss.

You give me a pat on the head, a compliment suited more for beast than man,

then you flash me a wink, teasing and wounding me further as you take your leave, as such pushing me into the deeper, darker pits of terror.

Questioning my own existence, what I had done to deserve such pain such humiliation. 

Had I not put the entirety of my heart and ability into my words?

Had I not slaved over my verbal anvil and hammered out the flaws in my writing and voice?

Had I not stayed hours into the darkness until leviathans’ chattering alerted me to the extent of my dedication?

Have I not deserved much more appreciation than a simple pet?

Am I not worth anything more than a simple companion to you?

Why do you feel victim when I am the true victim here my sly vixen?

Do you not care enough to explain yourself?

No matter the answers to the questions I cannot ask,

Thanks to you, my love, I go another day longer inside the place our demons and angels alike fear to be sent, the empty space of madness  where insanity itself was born, that name that is uttered with a tone of fear and bitter fury,

 

Purgatory.