Chapter 1 - Still Waiting

This poem is not from anger

This poem is not from hate

This poem was written for only one reason

It's because you made me wait





You tell me each day you Love me

Those words they burned so true

Now I see the lies you've sold me

I never did see the real you





The phone-calls and conversations

The minutes` and days and hours

You opened up these relations

Made me believe that this Love was ours





But I could see the way she looked at you

And the way you would look at her

Her hair blonde and her eyes blue

Your Love was for her for sure





But still you told me you loved me dearly

Yet each day you grew further away

I lived within your lies quite fearfully

Waiting the final and devastating day





So wait is what I did

And I'm sat here waiting still

And typing out my final message, I bid

You a fond and final farewell. . .

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