Untitled sad stories

elisamgonzalez poetry for humanity
Autoplay OFF   •   9 months ago
Waiting: a poem of love lost


she sits in the waiting room,

fluorescent lights flickering above her head.

the clock ticks. reverberations chill down her spine.

her head is a mess.

lasers ricocheting, straddling her curvatures of thought.

he sits next to her.

sipping coffee from a porcelain mug.

he’s been waiting for some time.

the crisp pages flip beneath her.

Ugly. flip. Cheap. flip.

peering above the paper she glances at him.


he doesn’t notice.

her eyes close.

diamonds glaze around her, prisms of light, kaleidoscopes of emotion.

he sees her now.

her soul whispers.

he answers.

their eyes lock.

her eyes flutter.

they are falling.

hands grasped they don’t see the ground.

the wind flying through her hair.

she can’t think.

her eyes shut.

at once she is in a blank room.

no walls, just space.

he’s there.

there is no time, or motion.

just him.

minutes go by.

months later she blinks again.

his cup plastic.

carrying a half-hearted smile for a heart fleeting.

eyes closed she’s in a forest.

surrounded by nothing except the bogs and choking mist.

and him.

the pines eternal.

wind never seeping through their arms.

she tastes the bitter breath of their air.

his hands lock around her waist.

she sees him in her reflection,

coalescing into never ceasing ripples stretching further from her grasp.

Soon she will be waiting again to the ticking of the clock.

Waiting once more for the return of the boy with the porcelain mug .

Knowing all too well he never will.

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