Waiting For You

I am waiting for you.

I have been since your last call;

the last words that left your lips,

the way they shaped each sound,

crisp with feeling;

the last hold I received,

warm hands withdrawn into the cold.


And now I’m busy playing your constant, forever

eternal mind games;

waiting for an end I know has to happen,

and waiting for you to make your moves and marks,

haunting mistakes or gracious choices,

whatever they happen to be in your mind.


And now I’m busy holding my heart in my hands,

watching all the people pass me waiting on the dirty street,

feeling awkward,

feeling stood up,

nursing it from the rain

and polluted breaths of people eyeing off my treasure,

smoke steaming from gaping mouths and sharp exhales,

like cascades of shining gems and mounds of

glorious entitlements, rolling down dreams

to those huddled beneath the city lights.


And now I’m busy deciding how long to keep

holding it.

Or to place it back inside it’s chest;

to thrum and pulse alone regardless, because I told it to.


And now I’m busy trying to adjust,

to leave this alone,

move my feet and leave my post,

waiting for you.

Keeping me and you alive is exhausting.

Draining nuture and tears, touches and examinations

to check that we are ok.

Are we ok?

I haven’t heard from you in weeks, but

you said you would be here.

To tell me your answer.

To make all this relentless pressure in my skull,

tension in my body

go away.

What happened to you not being the bad guy?

Like everyone who trailed crumbs of running-out love,

driving to me though the gas tank has finite space,

and held out commitment as they cowered behind it.


I haven’t heard from you.

And I desperately need to hear from you.

Should I stay, or should I go?

Are we meeting halfway, or are you expecting me to walk to you?

But I’m not.

That has never been my plan.


I haven’t heard from you.

And I don’t know if I want to anymore.

Or whether I should just make this stop.

Whether I should stop denying it, and commence the

pain that stems with loneliness myself.

To be honest with myself that it is what I have to feel.

To escape from you.


And let myself

breathe and mouth the words

‘I miss you’

to the empty air.


*Artwork unknown- Pinterest*


3 thoughts on “Waiting For You

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