A wait that rushes heavily
and somehow goes unseen by the others...
a latent, uncontagious knowing of
nightmares expected to come.
Dread is a pallet of hope and despair,
and the thousand-year old
It can stack to be towers deep
never getting enough
Not like happiness or bliss
There is no limit
Each layer finds a way to fit like a hat to a head and stick like gum in the chest
But when it's gone, you don't feel a residue
Not that much most of the time
And if you're really lucky, the same thing you were dreading will happen again and you'll get
your second chance.