I keep waiting for it, that text in the middle of the night
I got way back when, not always provocative, sometimes just a “hello”, as if I
mattered, when later, I did not.
I keep waiting for
it, even now, even this late in the day, when I know it will never come, not
merely because I’ve changed my number so many times, but because I burnt that
bridge long ago.
I keep waiting for, the one word that says she still thinks
of me, even when I suspect, she won’t, too much time passing, too many bad
feelings unresolved, and yet, I wait, like a dog waits at the front door for
its master to return, for that pat on the head, for the simple meaningful smile
I still miss, a picture of an expression of affection
I still wait.
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