Three tiny suspension points
Keep me hanging from a finger
From my desk.
The text was succint
and the short sentence closed
By a point
But i cannot find the real meaning
That those carefully chosen words
My arms are crossed
And my thoughts far away
When the bell rings.
The day is over
Or does it start?
I head home and fill the last hours
With tenderness and personality
Until the sleep comes
And my heart holds a list
With minute-long experiences and small memories.
Patience makes you a saint
But takes you to the top of a mountain
And leaves you there.
Alone and patient,
Questions are silenced
And peace settles in.
Luckily it is soon mobbed by the dormant curiosity
And excitement that salts your story.
And the crowd pretended not to know
The real reason behind the happenings.
Silent faces and thin smiles
Surround those who play dirty
And those who portray a reality
in sharp colours
Removing the tones that give joy
The expected reaction is easy to give
yet painful to live
as a sweetener in the coffee
It fools you for only a little while
While it makes you thrive for honesty.