Poetry

The pains of waiting

To think she had gotten used to this;

his never coming home

and when he did, he was gone

Like darkness that meets light

No. Like a shadow that meets night

There ought to be something

that one can do

to make the pains of waiting easier

There ought to be something

to ease this torture

Or someone. Yes someone

But what if this someone

is the same that’s causing the heart’s throb

No. There ought to be something

A thing.

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