I walked for miles to get here
suffered blisters and beating sun
a torn piece of notebook paper crumpled in my hand
I waited at your doorstep
hesitation always by my side
reading the words on the paper over and over again.
I waited on you
was I a fool, blindly hoping?
Or were you cruel, crushing trust?
The truth is probably somewhere in between.
I didn't doubt your good intentions
until I pounded on your door
with shaking hands
waited
waited
no response.
It was later I learned
you'd moved across the city -
a more determined woman
would square her shoulders
pick up her paper
and walk the distance.
But I am not she
I am just a girl
my feet ache
the sun has burned my skin
and after all I have given you
I should not be chasing you.