When You Wait For A Love That Never Comes

woman sitting and waiting
Roberto Nickson

I woke up to the intense vivid feeling of your lips softly brushing against mine.

I smiled as I tasted the familiar honeysuckle flavor tinted on your lips, but when my eyes fluttered open, there you weren’t.

I was alone, and left to crave your presence like an alcoholic craves a glass of whiskey.

Every bone in my body ached for your touch, but nothing ached more than my heart.

I was left alone with my mind, that battled between memories too fresh to share, and confusion of where you’d gone.

As the days slowly trickled on without any word from you, my heart slowly began to wretch in two.

“You’re not coming back,” I whispered to myself out loud one night as though you could hear me. 

I’d hoped night after night, day after day, that you’d knock on my door and come in with the rain, but you never did.

A few days later, I found myself breaking at the thought of your companionship, and was left to wonder, alone, with my desolated spirit what had happened to you.

A few weeks later, I found myself tasting the salty liquid that seeped from my eyes. The taste was one I’ve grown accustomed to. It was the flavor of heartache that I’ve been served too much of.

And there I was a month and a half later, at 10:38 P.M. awaiting your presence, like a child awaits a Christmas present.

Your apology came that night one minute later, and though, at the time, it was everything I’d hoped for, it was everything that wouldn’t last.

And so there I was, five months later, waiting for you to come in with the rain, with the smell of her perfume etched on your skin; because that’s what happens to the girls like me, patience is a virtue, but it isn’t always rewarded. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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