Four Years

It's been four years of this
four years of waiting
counting drops of spilt coffee in cafés
feeling my cheeks flush when I realize you're not coming
and quickly hiding the embarrassment
behind the neck of a sweater.
I made the excuses
you probably won't bother to
for you, I understood.

Four years turning into sediment

Two years of wishing I was kissing you.

I don't think it was wasted time, and I try to believe it's not
becoming wasted time
You don't believe in wasted time, as you go from state to state
as you quietly wriggle out of the warm
night grips of boys
but where's our time going now?
Honestly,