Waiting For You

Attribution: https://www.flickr.com/photos/philipedmondson/1051130431/in/photostream/

Attribution: https://www.flickr.com/photos/philipedmondson/1051130431/in/photostream/

I can’t tell you how many times I thought you were here.
I thought I saw you last night
hiding beneath the shadow of the moon,
but that was just the sunshine
waiting for me to see it hadn’t gone anywhere.
Waiting for me.

I can’t tell you how many times I thought you cared.
There were the little things like Sunday afternoons,
or the way that you would invite me over for a kiss,
or how you would whisper my name—
an orgasm trying to find space between the clouds of emptiness—
Waiting for me.

I can’t tell you how many times I thought I knew you.
You were the one who could make life seem magical.
You were the one pulling rabbits
from every black hole in my heart
until you showed me how the trick was done.
Until you showed me that my clouds are still full—
even though you made me forget how to cry—
scratches on the edges of my heart
Waiting for me… to fall.

I can’t tell you how many times I thought you were beautiful
because beauty is not a mathematical equation.
It is not a symmetrical face + big boobs + winning smile – body fat =
It is not something that you add to or subtract from.
It is more like a rabbit you can pull from a hat
before you realize the hat was empty all along,
and I’m left with darkness on one side of the equation and the “=”
waiting for me on the other.
Waiting for you.

I can’t tell you how many days it has been since the first day I saw you
because it feels like you never left.
It feels like maybe, if I scream at the clouds loud enough
they will stop to take a breath.
Or maybe, if I cry hard enough, the clouds will hold up their hands
in defeat because there is no competing with
me trying to get rid of something—someone—who just won’t leave.
Waiting for me.

I can’t tell you how many times I thought I would never leave you
but some days I wished I had the strength to
because I knew no matter how much abuse this body could take
you would never leave any marks,
but I thought I knew you.
You wanted me to be the villain in this story, but you got tired of
Waiting for me.

I can’t tell you how many times I thought we could make it work.
Some things belong together, are never apart
but how can a bowling ball love the pins
it keeps knocking down?
And every time I pick myself back up
I just stand there shivering at your near misses
wanting to pick you up out of the gutter,
but I know you will fight if I do,
so I stand up again and flinch
Waiting for you.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve missed you.
How can I be in love with a broken mirror
that cuts me up as if I were your reflection?
But I’d rather be broken, smashed and bleeding
than a puzzle all put together with missing pieces
Waiting for you.

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