Ouch

I've felt the sting all day. The burning, piercing, lightening strike pain that only knowledge can so eloquently carve into one's soul. My soul cries for your soul. I. I am numb. But my soul waits on the front porch day in and day out, convinced you're coming back. Me, I know you're not. But I can't convince her otherwise. She's relentless in her optimism. I try and wrap her in the dark cloak of truth and drag her kicking and screaming to the mirror, but she won't look. Won't open her eyes and see what's so obviously not there: you.

Every day the sun rises and I say, "he didn't come, I knew he wouldn't". Then as the hours slip by and the moon eases its way into the sky I look at her. She stares back, pitiful and bright eyed, stating with the surety of a child, "not today, but tonight".

I keep waiting for the day when she'll catch up with the rest of me, shoulders hung in defeat, eyes downcast, tired and worn. I wait and dread that moment when the last piece slowly falls into place and I am whole again. I feel like I've been waiting a long, long time. I pray I don't have to wait much longer.

To me you were a wonderful dream.
To me you are a nightmare.
To me you will be a memory.
One day. One day soon.