I lie awake. Listen to the rain tap gentle fingers against the pane. My breath raises and lowers my breasts. Drifting in light slumber, twirling in an ethered waltz to the moonlit breeze. Always. Every night. The same.
In the darkness I look for your eyes, wait for your footsteps. Search for your smell, crave your taste, feel your glancing touch. Ache for the weight of your body on mine, your twining legs, your sighing heart. He will come back for me, I tell myself again and again. He will come back for me.
And I wait some more. And the stars chase the sky toward morning and then come back again with the moon. I wait still more but the days and the nights blur. The weeks and months fuse. The years convince me of my mistake and I start to forget.
And look for your love in others’ eyes but they are empty and turn me away. So I turn to another to feed me the same punishment. And the years drag past like sodden leaves in Autumn storms and I turn to no one for no is there. No one is you. He is not coming back for me.
I forget about love and time makes a partner of ticking clocks and empty moments. But friends distract me and I am happy to watch their love from a distance. My time has passed. I accept. I forget. I reconcile to being the half of me that I am. I relent and the breeze is still.
But stillness brings a dream that whispers a secret I can not yet hear – a song I can not remember follows me. The door opens and rose petals flutter to my feet and the light brings the image back to me. And I remember. My eyes open – I am awake and you have come back for me.