Monday mid-afternoon was yours and my agreed upon meeting time.
I texted you once, just to confirm.
But, it lacked a reply.
Maybe you were sleeping,
Perhaps your battery, dead?
Or maybe you never received the message so…
I sent it again.
I prepared myself all week:
My clothing,
My hair style,
The way you would look at me when I walk into the room, and then the look I’d in turn give to you.
I prepared a speech,
Someway special.
And I planned it so we’d be seated beside each other.
I would then wrap my arms around you at the waist,
Rest my head on your chest, hugging you, and then say,
“Even through all the hurt you’ve caused me, I remained strongly missing you.”
I ask again, what happened?
Didn’t I do right by you?
Was my kindness mistaken for weakness?
Yes, I suppose that was the reason for my original separation from you.
You came back into my life,
A multitude of these promises,
But no prospects, still empty handed.
You came back into my life with such cathartic apologies,
Believable lies.
I’ll maybe have someone cast a spell on my heart so that I’ll fast get over you.
I’ll maybe have somebody cast a spell on my eyes so I may stop thinking you are so damn beautiful.
Aside from loneliness, my shameful, shallow provocation for forgiving you.
During last weeks dialog, even though shaking, unsure, pausing and interruptions in your voice. I was so sure you were in tune with your words.
During last weeks dialog, it seemed you were elated just to be speaking with me.
I was ready;I was prepared.
I sent you a text;I delivered two texts. And gave you a voice call and it all lead me no where.
I sat in “our” old restaurant,
I alone sat there.
Waited an hour for you.