Said a shadow

 Ever just sit and wonder why the lights flicker in the darkened night? How the shadows just outside your window halts before you move or shimmers as the wind plays your for a fool? Times like these I sit and wonder what really keeps me awake at three in the morning. 

Silly thoughts that lead to what ifs and off regrets but not really. It is the memory lane of not really crossing the road when I should have. Do you get what I am saying?

Though in my mind I have many long sighs that echo and the hope of finding a person that can actually relate. Even really want to dig into my spirit to teach me things that my soul can absorb. Seems as though that much of this comes from being so independent. Yet truthfully I just want to really grasp onto someone. 

Clearly at three in the morning it would appear that hormones are causing the want but really it is just the conversation, the conclusion of promises given and so many left unused. I only want to be able to connect. I do not suppose that is wrong but to just leap out and get that, yes, it is. Whereas the possibility that someone is searching for me, well that is a dream and many hopes combined.

Truthfully even though I am a dreamy idealist I still recognize that the reality of that just falling into my lap is quite comical. You see have friends and acquaintances but nothing deeper. Friends feels just like just a layer is unfolded but not even really dissected.

Perhaps that is how many want to leave it, but would it really hurt for someone to dig? Really search and scrap off the muck that is weighing down some parts of me? Would that really be bad? Maybe I am too dreamy for an idealist or even realist. Probably to real to be a dreamer. Ah the dilemma of being a woman, perhaps.

Yet it is the knocking of the wind upon the sliding glass door that has my mind thinking of those distant ideas. The moments of being petrified of simple shadows dancing outside my windows. The figures that walk across my patio in the early morning hours, yes, those are what give me curiosity to peek out.

Catch myself staring at eyes. And still I pick up my laptop and phone, head towards the bedroom and wait. Just to calm my mind for I know there is no one else who will. That is why I hope, dream, want and look forward to one day, maybe, perhaps.

Yet I do nothing. I just prepare for sleep and position my stuffed llama and old purple haired rags near the bedside. A moment of a childish whim inside an ancient thought. I just sit down, write a few words and pray someone listens. Finds one new thing about me and notes it. Demands to me and explanation.

How? 

Oh if I knew I would tell you and yet would anyone greet the challenge? Perhaps or not. I am hopeful of the taunting dare. But whoever you are, speak because I grow weary of waiting.