She'll slam the calendar down, making
the table legs shiver
and then she'll trace the days with
her fingers and drag
the months across the tabletop.
He'll be back, won't he,
with a cast-iron excuse and
a cast on iron arm
because he's careless like that.
And she'll sigh and moan and
(when he's not looking)
swoon, he'll smirk in that way of his
the one that shows
too many teeth.
She'll stay up for days for him, as if
he didn't make her light-headed already, and she'll need
another cup of coffee
(or another whiff of that smell of his
when he's close, since
that works just as well).
Her fingers will brush the skin
of his shoulder,
where the cursed iron resides
that she made from her "blessed" hands
(the ones that are only help in
such dire suffering)
and she'll feel him shiver.
He'll leave again, before
she was even ready to say hello
and good-bye passes her lips
long after his shadow
(taller than he is,
because, isn't everything?)
has graced the horizon.
She'll be waiting, of course,
for him to come around again,
even if it takes him
days and months and years, like
it did the first time.
She'll slam the calendar down, making
the table legs shiver
and then she'll trace the days with
her fingers and drag
the months across the tabletop.
Everyone knows she's waiting for him
to come back
everyone knows
(call for an appointment next time!,
drop by for dinner,
take care of your automail, idiot!).
Everyone knows she's waiting for him
to come back.
(But she really knows that
she's waiting for
the day he won't actually have to.)
A/N: So, this is my first shot at any writing that has anything to do with the Fullmetal fandom... Is this any good? I don't know if you don't tell me! ^_^
-Rydd Rider
