Talking in litotes

'm waiting- 

Most of the time

i'm hanging fire

and hanging on the edges

of luke warm conversartions

why, do we talk this way

where our tongues linger, 

fold into themselves 

turn into litotes

singing dissonant dialogues 

i don't want to

talk this way- in litotes

 i'll choke. 

     someday

and i'm waiting

hanging shelves on the wall

hanging on the edges 

of seasons wilting into one another

but i know, i know you will turn

You have to.

i 'm waiting

for the winter to break off

all the things the winter brought