If (For People Waiting for the Right Time)

“You have suffered enough and warred with yourself
It’s time that you won, take this sinking boat and point it home”


If you asked me the right question
long before I’ve seen you
patiently deal
with the mess I could become
at 3 o’clock
when I’m nothing better
than ruins and ashes

I would have mistaken sincerity
as a joke.

I would have laughed at your choices.
I would have laughed so hard
so hard
that it could break both of us.


If you’ll ask me the right question
long after we’ve become
the persons
we promised ourselves we’ll be,
the long years of waiting
might bring you closer
but nonetheless farther away from me.

Or maybe none of us will be left
to stay.

No more you and no more me,
just the hanging question:
“What happened?”
And we’ll never word what we’ve always known.


If you ask me the right question
right now when we are
half-ready and half-scared,
I’ll give you the answer
we both deserve.

I can’t promise it will make things easy.
But I swear not to lie
or hide
or run away.

I will not run away.

If I want to,
I’ll ask you to come with me.