11:43 PM

Where is he?
My Mr. Knightley, my Colonel Brandon, my Mr. Darcy?
(My three favorites, by the way.
A girl like me
needs a good combination of the three.)

I think I know him.
I'm afraid I know him.
I want so badly to know that he
is who I think he is.
(Patience
is not my strong point.)

Where are you?
I need you.
I miss you.
You know me,
you see me
for what I am.
You are
my friend.
Truly.
I cannot speak this
aloud. Not to you.

I will not ruin
what I have worked
and waited
for.

And so you will stay
in the dark.
(Or are you?
I can't help but suspect
that you know exactly
what I'm really thinking
every time you ask,
"What's wrong?"
and I answer,
"Nothing.")

It's 11:54 PM.

One day,
I will tell you.