Afterward, she sat up and grabbed her stuff. There was no sense in stopping her; I had done so for so long and the effects of which have left me weak. I asked, weakly, my voice quivering at the sound, when she will be coming back. “Don’t wait up,” she said, pursing her lips. She pushed herself up from the bed and dressed, her eyes never making contact with mine. It was as if she feared that looking into them would shackle her to me for another few years. Every time she left, or attempted to, she looked me in eye and then was burdened by what she saw. “Seriously,” she said, now by the door, hand on the knob, turned in such an angle that allowed it to still be closed. “Don’t wait up for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” And I nodded in agreement. Neither of us would come back here.
March 13, 2008
Don’t wait up
Posted by ennuiprayer under Ekphrasis, prose poetry | Tags: breaking up, heart-ache |Leave a Comment
