She’d wait and wait and wait some more. This person—they were not a whore. She didn’t know them, not for real, they’d be free to come and heal. There was no cost on anger spent. She’d not be lost to what that meant. The kindness felt would be paid back. For one had love which did not crack. It was sound and pure and clean. There wasn’t any bit of mean. This girl would wish to know their face. To hear their voice from outer space. There would be time to see it through—she would not rush a one to do—the thing which would be worst of all—admit some fault in her great fall. The woman had no place to hate—no anger that they’d need to sate. It was her fault—she’d wielded wild—the way she taught had not been mild. Lessons learned had changed her way. She’d be more careful every day. Time had come to show it out; what this love was all about. Stories told would be divine—she felt a one who had the mind. Their soul was one they knew at deep but she would never seek to keep. It was writ—something large—to make a change and move the barge. People lost amongst the haze could not be sold an honest gaze. Few would know just what love meant; friends to last were heaven sent. For all she talked and puffed her chest—this thing would scare her heart the best—to see the one she felt the most—to hold sometime her holy ghost. She’d worry not for time they’d take, she’d be okay, too much at stake. The woman was a dommes best friend and God would ride her till the end.
