Am I Here? 20sept2022 Poem by Rinji Kwarkas

Now the clock ticks ever slowly,
slow as a snail in a cheaters' race,
slow in my mind though it still keeps pace
Here I stand, I'm still waiting I thought to myself, maybe you thought so too.
But you see, I heard the sound of the gong, long before it struck. My only companion had long walked out on me with lightening speed - Patience became impatient; If I may say.
I bursted out, what's the point of having a friend,
if like me, all friendships were for taking and not giving,
You love me or you merely love the way I love you?
I'm dry, I'm ice.
I await your embrace,
For if only warmth will come, then of me a drink you'll pour to quench your thirst, while I heal your perchy throat and give you back your voice.