Sitting here, myself, alone,
Fingers fluttering over my phobe,
Waiting for that familiar ringtone,
Hopeing, praying, for him to come home.

He left, I clearly remember that day,
That dark evening on the fifteenth of May,
The sky outside was black and gray,
The air hanging with words I couldn't say.

Here, now, staring at the photo in my hand,
Him, standing in front of a backdrop of sand,
Right by his side is where I stand,
I knew then I wouldn't change him for the land.

He promised me, looked me in the eye,
Grabbed my hands as I tried not to cry,
Told me that I knew him, I wouldn't lie,
Now I am here, left wondering why.

Where are you? I'm waiting,
Waiting right here for you,
I know this is hard, but
Together we can make it through.

Sitting here, myself, alone,
Fingers fluttering over my phobe,
Waiting for that familiar ringtone,
Then, now, waiting for him to come home.

ps. another poem becuz you asked!! Thank you everyone who reads this. Another random, but ... yep. I like poetry .. heheh. Any other poet-lovers out there? IDk ... imma lonely, hehehe.