Static

Strands, like the plait in a young girl's hair,
Three of us wound together,
Intertwined,
Still seperate strands though,
I touched both of you.

Now I have one I do not want,
The one I want has one he wants,
Or needs,
I don't know which,
But it leaves me static, stuck.

He waits for me, I wait for the other,
Looking through shrouds of smoke,
As his guitar plays songs of unrequited love.