Child-Lady

I am just a whisper. A constant child on the outside. you look at my front stage of bundled winter cold and my small, shyness and must think, "there goes the child-lady."

bunches of tantrum words rise in me at these passings by, every day. Every day starts with "if only" and ends with "never." I make desperate attempts to convince myself it's their loss. It's your loss. I am the nice one. The one who listens, who cares. smiles on faces holding hands - frostbite - but together with no hats or scarves.

Why not me? So easily answered - so many different answers I see it as truth. Don't think like that - you don't even have time for a guy in your life. Yeah, but I'd like to have the option.