Betrayal and Waiting.
I thought that I’d grown old enough to take what I want, leave what I don’t, and never lose a wink of sleep over doing what I thought best.
I’ve had plenty of practice, plenty of hearts too easily broken,
but with you there was something different.
In the way you leaned forward and listened to my words, absorbing everything at a snails pace.
I felt myself choke on each phrase, they caught in my throat and tumbled out in a way I never meant them too.
Too conciliatory, too subdued, too far from the truth of what I need and what I want.
And since then there’s been a wait.
The irony fails to amuse me, all I do now is wait.
Wait for letters to arrive, wait for my mind to decide, wait for my heart to settle, wait for warm air to surround me in its welcoming way.
This time, it is not I who is betrayed, but you.
How sad it all seems.